Limbo
by E. Jane
Summary: A kidnapping or a rescue? An angel or a devil? Heaven or Hell? Sarah and Jareth must fight, together, and face the piercing truth of the Underground. Language and intense situations.
1. Familiar

_Hello everyone. Here's a brand new story for you, very different from my other piece. And don't worry-there will still be updates for 'Of Catalysts and Dreams.' No way have I given up on that one...this idea simply would not leave me alone. But be warned, there is some language and intense situations. I rated the story M, just to be on the safe side. And as always, I do not own Labyrinth or any of it's characters-only the ones my imagination created. Also, parts from a song are below that belong to Mr. John Mayer. Not mine... Review and let me know what you think, and I'll bring more updates ASAP!_

_E. Jane_

* * *

I

Familiar

Some people, when forced into a difficult situation, find that it helps a great deal to ease the pain with complaints. It is never their fault or their mess-it is always someone else's.

And while this may give a temporary relief of self-satisfaction, it does nothing to improve matters in the real world. Life is still cruel. You find yourself in the same position you were ten minutes ago, or weeks, or months, or years. Lifetimes.

Sarah Williams did not fit under the category of "some people." So when she found herself crammed into one small bathroom with six other girls scraping off her stage makeup, she did not complain. It was routine. The cracked sink, which did not work, was as familiar as the flickering florescent lights. The white peeling paint, grey with cigarette smoke, the overlapping posters advertising bands, shows, and entertainment on the strip, were as common to Sarah as her skin. Three years now she had worked in the mess, had seen the yellowing tiles beneath her feet. Almost nightly she had scrubbed the heavy stage makeup from her face along with her comrades in this god-forsaken hole. She was numb with how common it all felt, which left little room for complaining.

The costume, however, was new.

"Sylvia, help me unzip this thing!" she wailed, abandoning a dirty paper towel to the sink. Instinctively she avoided looking in the mirror, which always seemed to harbor a flitting shadow of one or two small figures-but she could blame her overworked brain on that. A lady several years older than her dashed over and unhooked the sequined show dress. Sarah felt it pool on the floor and danced around the tiny space, trying to yank off her stockings.

"Geez, Sarah. In a hurry much?" Sylvia leaned against the sink in her corset and matching fishnets all the girls wore. A cigarette dangled from her fingertips, stained with maroon lipstick.

Sarah grumbled something and threw a simple dress over her head. From a wrinkled bag she pulled two black stilettos and jumped them on.

"Where ya going, honey?" piped up another girl closer to Sarah's age. "You know Gary don't swing that way, right? Sleepin' with the manager won't get you nothin'." She huffed the words, as if to say, 'I know. I've tried.'

"Why do you think I'm all dressed up?" she retorted, flinging her head upside down and shaking out her hair. "Billy Stagton is at The Rocks tonight. Open auditions are at nine." She flipped up, grabbed her bag, and stepped over her sequined dress. It could rot in the muck and filth. If only she could spit on it, set it on fire-

No. Too tired. Must conserve energy.

"Baby," Sylvia laughed, "who do you think you're foolin'?" She didn't say it unkindly, but rather with a motherly affection. With the butt of her cigarette in the nearby loo she turned to Sarah again. "Dancers in Vegas don't get to act. We don't get to sing. But we do get paid." She pulled a good-sized wad of cash from the front of her costume.

The others nodded enthusiastically. Sarah was the baby, even at twenty-one. They'd been through enough together in the last three years to understand one another, to have already been beaten down. Surely they could spare her.

Sarah shook her head sadly and pulled the door open, stepping into a dark corridor. Sounds from the stage above filled the basement even through the concrete walls: raucous music, hooting, drunken cat-calls.

Familiar.

The door shut on the bathroom and Sylvia turned to the remaining girls. "Billy Stagton," she mused, tucking the money away and lighting a second cigarette. A thoughtful puff illuminated her face as the lights flickered again. "I'll be damned."

It wasn't raining, yet. But the sky rumbled as Sarah ducked out back. Neon signs proclaimed advertisements above the dirty building. Outlines of women and alcoholic drinks. Scantily clad women. Sarah hated herself for becoming one of them...but not tonight. No, tonight she was auditioning for _the _Billy Stagton-he had a theater in New York City. He came to Vegas looking for fresh blood, and free auditions were being held in half an hour at The Rocks. Sarah had not dared to pursue anything as daring as tonight, especially after she gave up Hollywood, in the three years she had been selling her body to hungry eyes. If she could only get him to look at her, to sing a little, she might have a chance to leave all of that behind. She didn't really know where the courage came from to do it...maybe she was finally fed up with tips.

Vegas was warm this time of year and teeming with people. She pushed past them and felt an onslaught of blisters on her heels. They would only compliment the existing ones. In minutes she burst onto the strip, momentarily blinded. Flashing signs, loud music, machines, people, food-everything descended upon her like a beast. Hurriedly she shook it off and pressed forward, further down the street.

Several whistles flew at her as she half ran down the strip. God, the shoes pinched-Linda Williams was a whole size smaller than Sarah, but she had taken them anyway. They were the only things she had left of her mother. That, and her aspirations to become an actress. She hadn't flown all the way to Hollywood for nothing. However, actress wanna-be's, even as talented as Sarah was, did not have so much luck at eighteen.

Karen had wanted her out. Out of the house, out of their perfect life. She hadn't seen Toby in three years..._three years_, dammit. Richard only saw sense in her demonic stepmother's decree.

Get a job. Go to school. Make your own life.

Sarah had failed miserably. There was no job for her in Hollywood, not even singing and playing her guitar on street corners, so she took her last bit of money and hopped a bus all the way to Nevada. To Vegas.

To "Gary's House of Girls."

She barely avoided a sewage grate, and the snapping of her heel. 'Keep going, almost there,' she prodded herself. 'Billy Stagton, just get to Billy Stagton...'

There was no way she could have just gone home. So Sarah had simply faded out of the Williams' lives. She didn't even consider herself a Williams anymore. Just Sarah, and that was fine.

'Get...to...Billy...damn these shoes...'

If she could ever get home in them, she would pour a bottle of kerosene over the top and light them up. Linda wouldn't miss them.

You did not need stilettos in a grave.

Her bag was slung across her chest, just how every other paranoid person caries their personal things in a crowd. Sarah hunched slightly to avoid unwanted attention, too. All the precautions were taken. If need be she could karate chop someone into next week, or pepper spray them senseless. Self defense had been her priority since leaving home. So when a blazing red convertible-top sports car honked at her, pulling up to the curb, Sarah put her fighting face on. It had never happened to her, but that didn't mean it couldn't.

Her own determined face was reflected back at her in the tinted window, but seemed to peel away as it slid down to reveal the interior. She did not have time for this...but for some odd reason she stayed. To tell the bastard off, maybe.

Within all was dark, the passenger seat only faintly lit by the slot machines behind her. The driver could not be seen at all, save for one arm, gracefully draped across the empty passenger's seat, pale fingers encased in driving gloves. Shame the top wasn't down-nice, warm night.

"Can I offer you a ride?" the stranger asked silkily. Something in Sarah bristled. The voice was so...smooth, and strangely accented. The fiery words on her tongue dissipated in confusion. With a huff she turned on her heel and stormed off.

The car followed, its waxed, candy-apple exterior shining bright under the flashing lights. "You look a little uncomfortable. I can take you wherever you wish to go," he coaxed. "Truthfully, I wouldn't mind some company tonight."

She lost it then. So far the car had followed her steadily up the street, which was odd. Usually the road was filled on both sides with parked vehicles. But not tonight. Sarah rounded on the car, which came to a smooth halt.

"Look, Jack," she snarled, leaning over slightly, but not enough for him to grab her, "if you want _that_ kind of company, turn left down the next street and follow the alley to the river. When you get there, jump in." She turned again and set off at a brisk pace. The crowd seemed to have thinned-another oddity-and there were less bodies to shelter her from the pursuer. Help, did she need help? What was this guy doing?

"Sarah."

She stumbled at her name. He said it like a statement, crisp and clear. It halted her in her tracks long enough for the driver to lean over the passenger seat and show himself in the light.

Black, said her mind. All black clothes. Business suit, tie, shirt-and bloody hell. He was wearing _sunglasses_. In a car at eight forty-five at night. Most of his face was still concealed by shadow, but tumbled layers of fair blond hair fell around his shoulders. A shock went up her spine.

Familiar.

"Get in the car." The stranger said it with a soft edge. There were to be no questions asked, only action taken. Some of her senses crept back, enough to find her voice.

"What the hell do you want? Do I know you?"

To her horror, the man smiled a glittering, feral smile. Her eyes widened involuntarily at what it said, how his hidden gaze was reading her.

Billy Stagton, get to Billy Stagton...

Silently he reached over and pushed her door open. Then he slid back into the shadows and waited.

She ran.

So what if she was cutting off the circulation to her feet? Animal instincts flickered on, choosing flight for fight. That man, whoever he was, was powerful. It had radiated off of him like heat. No way could she risk something like that, especially tonight.

She made a last dash through a smallish crowd, heart about to burst with the fear that her pursuer would catch her at any second, and skidded to a shaky stop. There it was...The Rocks. One of Vegas' many nightclubs. It's sign flashed a large diamond in a martini glass and beckoned her inside. There was a fair sized line already out its door, most of who seemed to be young girls like herself, looking for an audition. Several were clutching copies of head shots, music to sing to, or were hyperventilating with nerves.

Sarah looked to them, all done up in various amounts of makeup and degrees of showing skin, and hesitated. This would never do...and, besides, this was not the same type of club she was associated with. Inside was a place for the elite and rich, and the entertainment consisted of a professional singer and pianist. Not poles.

She dove around the corner where a dumpster and single light were huddled. Just a second to catch her breath... Then she saw a few sticky steps that lead to a heavy door. Tentatively, hardly caring what the consequences might be, she tugged. It was open. With a deep breath she pulled it wide, and stepped over the threshold.

Ah, shit, the kitchens. But that was alright, no problem...all the employees were too busy to notice. Sarah navigated her way around dishes and waiters to a door and slipped through. It opened into a dining room, which was darkened for the show. What little she could see told her it was very large, like a theater with an upper balcony and everything. Someone was singing on stage, but she did not dare look. It hurt too much to think that _she _should be up there.

Then she saw him, fashionably late, of course. Billy Stagton was being escorted to a private room by the hostess. In one moment of pure impulsiveness, Sarah made up her mind that she would get absolutely nowhere by joining the line of girls outside. She followed them, slipping in behind the tall blond girl. A nearby waitress's tray, unattended, rested nearby, so she picked it up and decided it would be her prop for the evening. The water pitcher on it effectively hid her face from the others walking toward her, and in the dark it was very difficult to see. 'Act,' she told herself, and continued after them.

Her heart was thudding in her chest, but the others did not notice her presence. They entered through a small door and she quickly took her tray to the tiny bar on the opposite side of the room. Billy made himself at home on a large leather couch.

"Should I send in the girls one at a time?" the blond asked, obviously feeling very important.

"No," Billy said shortly, not looking at her but to the television replaying some sports event. "Not yet."

The girl deflated a little. "Very well, sir. When you're ready, then." She slunk out, closing the door behind her, and Sarah took to rearranging the decanters at the bar. The lighting was very poor-some illumination came from the track lights above them on a dimmer, and some from the flickering television. Brighter, more serious lights remained off. Inside she shuddered, not knowing what to do with herself. What, oh what, had she done?

"A scotch, I think, is what I need," Billy sighed, stretching and draping his arms over the back of the couch. With one hand he rubbed the dark stubble on his chin, and when there was no answer he turned to a frozen Sarah. "Well?"

So. He had noticed her. "Yes, sir, of course." Quickly she poured a glass and turned to give it to him.

"Hell, bring the whole bottle," he muttered, taking the glass without looking at her. "It's going to be a long night." He knocked it back quite fast and immediately went to pour another. But he looked at the girl handing him the bottle.

"My, my," he blinked. "Who do we have here?" His eyes flashed up and down the length of her body, taking her in, sizing her up. "I do not think you are employed at The Rocks."

"No, sir," Sarah admitted, stepping back to the bar where the overhead lights lit her up.

"Then you're here for the interviews," he smiled, pouring and downing a second glass. "Clever."

She waited, ready to be thrown out by security at any second. Almost in a bored fashion, Billy grabbed the remote to the flat screen and clicked it off. When he turned back his face was tired, worn, and tinged a bit pink. "So audition already."

For a second she hesitated. That was all he needed.

"Next!"

"Wait!" she blinked, watching with horror as he rose and began walking towards the door.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but Billy Stagton doesn't wait," he said, carrying his third scotch with him.

"It's really over," she sang. Her voice was bright and clear. The sound made contact solidly with Billy's ears and he turned a little unsteadily. "You made your stand," she continued. Quietly he removed his fingers from the door handle and walked back to the couch. "You've got me cryin', as was your plan." He sat, motioning for her to continue.

"Oh, but when my loneliness is through,  
I'm gonna find another you.

You take your sweaters  
You take your time.  
You might have your reasons,  
But you will never have my rhymes.

I'm gonna sing my way away from blue...  
I'm gonna find another you."

Billy narrowed his eyes when she stopped. "There's more, you know." The third scotch was halfway done.

"No free shows," she replied bitterly, moving back to the bar. Living by that statement for three years had ingrained it permanently into her brain.

"Good girl," he nodded seriously, although his mouth wobbled into a smile and his head bobbed a little. He cheered her with the remains of his glass. "In fact, very good. What's your name, doll?"

"Sarah," she said bluntly, not caring much for the nickname. She looked at him a little warily as he swayed to stand.

"Sarah...what?" he asked, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets as if to steady himself. It did not help much.

"Just Sarah." He was walking toward her now, and he smelled _awful._ Like more than scotch-she guessed substances of dubious legality. Carefully she backed away, into the bar, but he followed.

Billy nodded wisely, then thrust a hand forward. "Billy Stagton," he slurred.

"Yes, I know," Sarah muttered, but took his hand. He smiled goofily and pumped it up and down.

"Very pretty voice. Very pretty figure," he mumbled, clasping her hand a little too tight. Subtly she tried wiggling away, only to have his other hand grab her waist. "Where ya goin'? I'm gonna make you famous, Kara."

Now was not the time to correct her name, especially when his hand was traveling lower and lower.

"Um, no thanks, Mr. Stagton. I'm going to leave now-"

"Billy," he reprimanded, pushing her against the bar. "I think we can come to some kind of...understanding. Even if you don't want my help," he whispered a little cross-eyed. "I've had a very trying day, you know."

She didn't know, and didn't care to find out, trying to shove on his forearms and chest. Drunk, even, he was quite strong. "Billy-" she tried, "let me go!"

He laughed and gripped her tighter. "No." With one hard push he sent her to the hard floor, on her knees. "Say my name again."

Her breathing was coming in sputtered gasps. She needed to call for help this time. Her purse was dangling over her chest, pepper spray useless inside, and Billy had her wrists ensnared by his fingers. "Say it."

"Help! Someone hel-"

When he yanked her back to a standing position she was shocked enough to cut her yell short. Without ceremony he flung her around and onto the couch, then scrambled on top.

Sarah kicked, kneed, bit, did everything she had ever been taught in self defense, but he was tearing at her dress anyway. Her purse was discarded several feet away now, his scotch glass rolling empty on the floor.

She was in shreds. The tan colored stage underwear was still there, the slimming corset and panties. Her face was streaked with hot, frightened tears as his hand covered her wailing mouth.

"Shh," he chuckled a little madly. "You pay me now, I'll pay you later. Big job, good money," he snickered. "But first-"

She closed her eyes and waited. For something painful.

The pressure was suddenly alleviated, gone altogether. She looked up to see two figures-two? A tall, slim one gripping the second one by the throat and holding him up off the ground. Billy. He was dangling Billy by the neck with a single hand. And growling.

"You filthy piece of scum," the stranger hissed. Sarah recognized him with a start, even in the dim light. It was the guy from the car. Billy was choking, clawing at the man's unflinching fingers for air. "How _dare_ you." He dropped the drunken man to the floor, then hoisted him up with both hands by the collar of his shirt. "If you ever lay a finger on her again, so help me, I will wring your pathetic neck." Then he thrust Billy away from him like a rag doll, where he fainted in a heap on the floor.

Sarah stared openly at the stranger as he turned to face her, but tumbled off the couch and as far away as possible before standing. "Who are you?" she bleated, shaking all over. "What do you want from me?" He advanced several steps until she realized there was nowhere to go but into the club. In her underwear.

The man stopped just short of her and extracted his jacket. It twirled off him like a cloak, spinning from his shoulders. Silently he held it out to her.

She blinked at it and hugged her arms firmly about her chest.

"Take it," he prompted softly, completely contradicting his previous behavior. "Are you hurt?" He was not wearing those ridiculous shades anymore, but she still could not see his face properly.

She shook her head 'no.' Not hurt...terrified. Wordlessly he stepped up again and flung the jacket around her shoulders.

"It is not much, but it's something. Now," he said, straightening his gloves. "It's time to go."

"Go?" she choked. "Go where? Are you..." Several murder mystery-related scenes from day-time television intruded her thoughts. "Are you going to kill me?"

He turned sharply and froze. For a flicker of a moment she could see his eyes clearly-wide, mismatched. "No, Sarah. I am not going to kill you." She drew the heavy coat around her as he advanced again, this time laying a hand on either shoulder. "You would not be of any use to me that way."

They vanished.


	2. Anniversary

_To everyone, thank you for the lovely reviews! Here's another chapter for your viewing pleasure. It is shorter, but the next two reveal quite a bit, I think. Hopefully I can have them up for you soon...if the goblins will stop moving my papers around..._

_E. Jane_

* * *

II

Anniversary

A bump in the road jolted her and Sarah awoke. Blearily she stared out the window, which her forehead was pressed against, at the flat desert landscape. It was dry and cracked with lack of rain, and the night sky hung velvet overhead, speckled with stars. They were much brighter here, away from the city. Very bright, in fact...Sarah realized just _how_ far from town they were, which was pretty much the middle of nowhere.

Fear gripped her chest. She had never felt more trapped than she did now, underneath such a wide sky. Slowly she turned in her seat, moving awkwardly against the safety belt, and saw him.

More terrifying than her actual captor was the fact that he was not driving. He was lounging in the seat and staring at something in his palm that caught the dashboard lights and threw them around. Neither hand was on the wheel, and his attention was so thoroughly absorbed by the object that he didn't bother to pay attention to the road.

They were pushing eighty miles an hour.

"Oh my God!" Sarah yelped, remembering. She was stuck with a stalker maniac in a speeding car to Hell. He turned his head in acknowledgment.

"Good. You're awake."

Without further ado, or help from its driver, the car stopped and the man flicked his wrist. Sarah blinked, but nothing else came from the theatrical movement. Swiftly he climbed from the car, slammed his door, and walked around the front to her side. She gaped at him when he pulled her own wide and motioned her out.

Her brain was frantically going over her options, which, she concluded with a sinking stomach, were none.

With a sigh of exasperation the man leaned over and unclasped the seat belt, then hooked one hand under her knees and the other behind her back. In one fluid motion Sarah found herself sitting on top of the car's hood.

"You need some air," he commented dryly. Thunder cracked far away and she drew the jacket, his jacket, around her tightly. He noticed but only began rolling up his black sleeves. Sarah gulped hard, thinking that he must have lied. This lunatic really _was_ going to kill her, and didn't want blood stains on his immaculate outfit. She felt a little faint. When a low sigh escaped his lips, she jumped. "Why is it always such foul weather when we meet?"

Sarah blinked as something tickled the back of her mind. "Meet? So we've...met before?"

"Quite a few years ago," he nodded, his back to her. Lightening forked the sky. "Six Aboveground years. Thirteen Underground years. It's our anniversary, you know." It was said ironically, and he shook his head, as if enjoying a private joke. She imagined that he was smirking while she could not see.

Her stomach dropped. Underground...she had read about that when she was just a kid, hadn't she? But there was something else going on here.

"Anniversary?"

The man dug in his pocket and extracted something, then flung it over his shoulder without a glance to the girl. Instinctively she reached out and caught it by the tips of her fingers.

It was a crystal ball, clear and smooth and perfect. There was barely any feel of it on her skin, as if it was made of air. Or dreams.

She gave a loud gasp as it floated, hovering before her face. A myriad of colors flashed inside that twinkled and distorted until there was a picture.

Fifteen year old Sarah Williams. Innocent and young. Naive. Running down an endless corridor, dropping down a shaft of hands, traversing a maze of hedges, eating a peach, storming a castle-

He snatched the bauble from the air and it vanished inside his hand.

"You're him, aren't you?" she breathed. The twisted smirk appeared, looking just as she'd imagined. "You're...the Goblin King." Inside her body felt like it was turning to mush. Things best forgotten were pushing, scrambling to the forefront of her mind. "Jareth?"

His face fell at that, hardening as a closer, brighter flash of light illuminated him completely. Thunder rumbled in the second that she saw everything-the angular planes of his smooth face, thin lips, mocking eyes. His stance was rigid.

"Do not address me with so much familiarity, Sarah. You forfeited that right long ago," he bit out.

Her chest was beginning to tighten painfully. It was him, it really was him. The monster she'd beaten so many years ago. No...that was just a story! Memories and reasoning were battling fiercely now, each determined to win. That adventure had only been the poor imaginings of a lonely girl's fantasy. "You aren't real!" she cried finally as he looked on, head cocked quizzically to one side. Her voice was on the brink of hysterical as she shrieked, "You're a myth! A legend!"

Too fast for her to comprehend, Jareth stepped closer. "Don't I sound real?" With a gloved hand he reached out and smoothed his fingers over her cheek, even as she shied away. "Don't I feel real?"

Now she was breathing much too hard and her chest was burning. Sarah could feel the hyperventilation happening, could feel herself slowly slipping from the car. Jareth took a hold of her forearms tightly.

"Sarah," he commanded, "stop it." But she couldn't. Couldn't even move. While her body was stubbornly unreactive, her mind was a whirlwind. She remembered coming home that night and vowing to pursue her dreams. Then, just as she had really started to live her life, everything had fallen apart. Nothing ever came of any ambition, even the simplest of things. Her friends grew distant, grades dropped, family disintegrated, all without reason or cause. Painfully slow she had forgotten the Underground. The...Labyrinth. Not anymore.

Her eyes flickered up to his unyielding face. He..._he _was the cause of her miserable life. Jareth was responsible for all of this-

She hit him. It was just a single pound on the chest, but the more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Every blow was justified completely in her mind by the fact that he had tortured her even after those thirteen hours were gone. It did not matter that for most of the past six years she hadn't even remembered him. Strangled sobs escaped her, which quickly grew into shaking wails. "Oh, God, look what you've done to me! Look how you've ruined..._everything_..." He did not flinch. His firm grip held, but she was still slipping.

He drew her closer though she continued to beat him. Sobs wracked her body, and he knew it was true. He _had_ done this to her.

Finally the only sound was her heavy, choked breathing, fading into his shirt. Limply she clung to him, for fear of slipping from the car.

"You cheating coward," she moaned. "Deceitful, wretched, conniving..." Exhausted, she stopped completely and let him hold her there.

Jareth did not move, even after she was quiet. It had been so long since they were this near-he hadn't thought it would hurt this much. Bitterly he told himself it was only what he deserved, for what he had done. Letting himself become captivated by a mortal girl had created an unstable, living thing inside him. It was too wild, too free.

He had pursued Sarah so hard that he had broken her.

It was only going to get worse.

Carefully he cupped her face, moving it from his chest to see more clearly. Her head rolled back, limp, and her eyes-damn those cruel eyes-stared right through him. Tears had made rivers on her face.

Suddenly she frowned. "And I'll call you whatever I damn well please, _Jareth._"

He growled, a soft rumble of warning, but she did not heed it.

"To Hell if I ever call you 'majesty,'" she slurred, falling toward him. Her body was giving up, she thought distantly. Too much, too fast...

"Then don't address me at all," he whispered dangerously soft. A sigh escaped like an afterthought. "We're leaving."

Sarah snorted in displeasure-the only thing her body seemed capable of at the moment. She mumbled something, probably indecent, into the collar of his shirt. Jareth took her useless hands and wrapped them about his neck, them pulled her firmly against him by the waist. Best to leave her on the car, otherwise she would tumble over completely. Mercifully her hands stayed where he had put them.

"You are going to despise me for this," he mumbled darkly. "But if you hate me, then at least I will have given you good cause." Gently he tipped her chin up to him. Sarah's eyelids fluttered feebly, but refused to open.

Jareth covered her mouth with his own. He meant it to be light and soft but was startled when she went rigid beneath him. For a second there was only a part of them touching as he began to pull away-until Sarah followed, pressing them together again. It started to sprinkle at that exact moment, and Jareth forgot. Forgot everything.

The sky opened up and poured long overdue rain onto the desert land. Sarah felt a great rush of air inside her as he kissed her again. Granted, she was a bit far-gone at this point. Her mind was a blank. All that registered was the liquid feel of his lips. They weren't kissing her-they were caressing her. The wind in her chest welled up until she felt like she would burst.

A gale tore around the car and the figures there. Jareth's lips twitched up in a smile against hers. So she'd done it. The harsh wind swirled around them and up, lifting their hair and flinging their clothes. Bits of dirt and grit were picked up, concealing them with a dark, wet wall of earth. Momentarily he banished the thought of that unnecessary second kiss, for one was all the magic had required.

He gave her a third.

The dust settled as quickly as it had picked up, the harsh wind dissipating into its normal currents. Rain continued to patter heavily, musically, on the empty car. In the morning a police officer would find it on his morning patrol and call it in. There would be no registration, ID, payments, or anything linked to it. The owner did not exist. The police station would run an add in the paper asking if anyone could come forward with proof of ownership, next to the article about Billy Stagton's intent to sue The Rocks. Apparently one of the employees had harmed him, after forcing several scotches down his throat.

A last strike of lightening showed the empty landscape. Not a soul remained. Only the desert, the road, and a candy apple-colored car.

* * *

Jareth swore softly as Sarah fell completely limp in his arms. He had exhausted her already. She was ridiculously light for a grown woman, he thought. When he swooped her up and cradled her against his chest the bones were achingly obvious beneath her skin.

Loud booted steps echoed back to his ears as he walked into the single shaft of light. So Sarah had transported them to the oubliette. Fascinating. He cocked his head to the side as before, quizzically, studying her pale face.

She had grown up too fast, Jareth mused. Still...this new, older Sarah was just as captivating as the younger version. Perhaps even more. Underneath her worn, changed exterior was the girl he had fallen for. Somewhere.

He looked to her lips and twitched his own mouth into a grin with understanding. Sarah had done her part of the job in transporting them, but it had been Jareth that made their destination the oubliette. A short chuckle of self-mockery escaped him. Of course. One kiss, or three, and he was completely undone. Jareth had forgotten himself in the taste of her. Forgotten, and transported them to the place of forgetting. It was a pity that the first time he had ever felt her lips against his own was under such regrettable circumstances. He took a moment then to simply look at her, something he would never again have the luxury of doing without her angry stare. Golden locks swayed when he shook his head and they disappeared again.

They reappeared in a room of dark, rich colors. Gingerly Jareth laid her on a lush couch before the roaring fireplace. Obscurity seemed to be this evening's theme, he thought, then heaved the heavy curtains over the windows. Now the only visible things were Sarah and her makeshift bed-the remainder of the room was cloaked in darkness.

She stirred, but only briefly. Jareth looked on as she wrapped his human disguise more firmly about her tiny frame, shivering with cold. They were both soaked through from the rain.

Effortlessly he pulled a clear sphere from the air. "Brock."

A vague image swam inside, and a man answered, "Yes, your majesty?"

"Come to my quarters, and bring Margaret. We have a visitor." The man nodded once and the bubble burst. Seconds later there was a knock on the door.

It opened with a wave of his hand to reveal two figures waiting in the doorway. Eyes traveled from the Goblin King to the frail sleeping girl. The woman's mouth opened in wide shock before she snapped it closed again, but her gaze never strayed from Sarah.

Jareth strode to the doorway, standing close enough to the man to whisper, "How is it, Brock? Contained?"

"Barely," the man whispered back. "It's a little wider than before, a little deeper. But it has yet to break your boundaries."

He nodded back, unsurprised at the news. When he turned to the woman she was still staring at Sarah.

"Margaret."

She jumped slightly at her name, then gave a sweeping curtsy before the king. "Majesty."

"Tend to the girl. I'm afraid there was a bit of trouble Aboveground." When he paused she seemed to take in his dripping clothes with careful scrutiny. "And fetch the physician."

"Is your grace ill?" she asked, something the other maids would be scared witless to do. But that's why Jareth respected her so much-she could think for herself.

"No," he replied shortly, adjusting his soggy gloves. "The girl is malnourished and took a little...fall this evening. She won't stand up to tomorrow if she isn't healthy." Margaret nodded once in understanding. Then she crossed the room in a few steps, placed a hand on Sarah's arm, and they vanished.

Brock looked to the damp, empty couch for a moment. When he turned back to his king he had moved, searching for a glass at a small counter near one wall.

"So that's where you took off to." He watched Jareth stalk back to the couch and occupy the girl's spot. The liquid in the glass swirled, but he did not drink it, stubbornly refusing Brock's gaze. "Sarah looked...weary, Jareth."

He pressed his lips in response, staring into the fire. "I didn't think it would ever come to this-she was supposed to take her dreams. You know that refusing such a large part of the soul can kill a mortal."

"It can kill a Fae just as easily," Brock offered, coming to stand beside the couch. "But yes, I know."

Jareth dipped a finger into his drink and smoothed it around the rim of the glass. A plaintive note wavered in the air. "Tomorrow we end this," he whispered.

"What will you do with the girl, afterwards?" Brock always did have the tendency to voice the awkward, obviously avoided, questions.

"Nothing," Jareth shot back tersely. He was being difficult, and he knew that. But he couldn't face the answer yet.

"Ask her to stay." It was a whisper to the room. The Goblin King turned to find himself alone in his chambers. Again. As always.

He threw the glass into the fire, shattering crystal and making the flames swell with alcohol. Little pieces of broken china glittered eerily from the ashes.

"I can't."


	3. Fallen

III

Fallen

"She's coming around."

When she breathed in, her lungs burned with a pungent smell. It was so _vile_... Even though she turned her head restlessly to escape it, the offending aroma followed.

"Hoggle...it smells _awful_..." Sarah moaned to the dark. Why was it so black?

"Isn't that the dwarf's name?" came a voice.

"Yes," said another. "His majesty's gatekeeper. He helped the girl run the Labyrinth."

God, the smell-it reminded her of bubbling marshes and crumbling bridges. "Don't step in it!" she called out to no one in particular. Maybe the voices. "It doesn't wash off!"

"Shh..." soothed someone. The smell regressed minutely. "There now. Open your eyes, Sarah."

'Oh,' her scattered brain thought. 'That's why it's so dark...'

Sarah struggled into a sitting position and forced her eyes to open, but strong hands pushed her back onto the pillows. Two unearthly faces swam before her.

"Where am I?" she blinked up.

The figures turned to each other uncertainly.

"Underground," replied a woman. Her face was round and kind, black hair stuffed under a funny white cap. An apron was tied securely about her waist. "His majesty sent for us to tend to you."

His majesty...

"Oh my lord," she muttered, dropping her head into her hand. "Then it really wasn't a dream." With a shock she remembered the seconds before she had passed out, and unconsciously her fingers rose to her lips.

The second woman was inspecting Sarah closely. "When was the last you ate, girl?"

She dropped the hand on her lips and stared at the woman. Her face was so pale that faint blue arteries could be seen at her temples. Sarah knew she was very, very old, even though her skin harbored no wrinkles. Not a single one. It was her sapphire eyes-ageless pools of knowledge flickered back at her.

"Sometime...yesterday?" Sarah tried. Truthfully, it might have been longer since she'd eaten, depending on how long she'd been out. A nagging thought entered her mind, more important than food. "If the Goblin King sent you to me, then does that mean that I'm...in..."

"The Castle Beyond the Goblin City," the first woman provided. She watched nervously as the girl's eyes darted about the room. "Don't be frightened-whatever happened to you Aboveground is over. You're safe."

Her heart was ramming painfully against her ribs. "Safe? Safe!" she laughed in disbelief. "Let me guess. He carried me to you, looking like some kind of champion, didn't he?" Before they could stop her Sarah had scrambled from the bed. "My hero, the Goblin King! My_ savior_." Now she was backing away to the wall. "Well that's _not _what happened! He kidnapped me, brought me to this...nightmare!"

"Sarah," said the older woman impatiently. "You do not have enough strength to be up yet. You'll only hurt yourself like this."

She grunted and crossed her arms defiantly. "Where is he now? And what were you trying to kill me with earlier?" Her gaze settled on a small vial in the woman's hand.

She frowned, drawing silver eyebrows together that matched her swinging curtain of hair. "You know what it is. Water from the Bog of Eternal Stench is much more effective than smelling salts."

Sarah looked disbelievingly between the two women. "I've got to get out of here," she whispered. "I don't belong here!"

Silently her caretakers watched as Sarah darted to the window. But that means of escape would be futile. Her stomach dropped and twisted at the fall below-hundreds of feet. She spun back around, trying to calm her sudden lightheadedness.

"He's gone and locked me in a tower," she mused bitterly. "How many guards are at the door?"

The woman in the funny cap sighed. "Sarah, please. There _are_ no guards. And this was the only available room. It's temporary-you can have another as soon as we prepare one."

This was just...too much. She closed her eyes to the room and gritted her teeth. "Will someone _please_ explain to me what is going on?"

"Come back to the bed," the older woman coaxed softly. "Let me look you over, and I will tell you."

"Look me over?" she frowned, opening her eyes. "What for?" When she glanced down Sarah found herself in a loose white nightgown.

The lady beckoned her over and Sarah sighed, deep and long-suffering. "Fine. But you have to tell me_ everything_." Quietly she walked away from the window and settled on the corner of the bed. "Who are you?"

"Lyra," came the muffled reply. She had her shimmering head in a bag and was extracting bottles. "The castle's physician. Now, say 'ah.'"

Sarah gave a strangled noise as Lyra shoved a stick into her mouth and looked down her throat.

"I'm Margaret," the second woman winced, watching the examination. "Most likely I'll be assigned as your maid."

"I don't _want_ a maid," she replied hoarsely, her throat raw. "I want an escape plan. Hey!"

Lyra was hiking up the long dress and studying her knees. "Mercy, girl, you did take quite a fall." She reached into a large jar and began slathering Sarah's bruises with goo. An odd tingling sensation followed, but she tried her best to ignore it.

"Obviously you know who I am-why is that?"

The women blinked at each other before Lyra dove back into her bag.

"You're the Champion," Margaret articulated slowly.

"Champion?" Sarah was lost.

"Of the Labyrinth," Lyra said. "The only one who's ever conquered it." She twisted her wrist in the air and produced a large goblet. "Drink."

"But I-"

"Drink!" she insisted, pressing the cup into Sarah's hand. "And take these." Several pill-like objects rattled onto the bedside table.

She sipped obediently. Water. Oh, how cool it was-she hadn't known she was so thirsty. Sarah drank until she was short of breath, then looked down to see the glass full.

"Wha-how did you do that?" Perplexed, she blinked at the physician.

"Magic," she replied shortly, pointing to the pills. There were four, and Sarah downed them all at once.

"Ack," she spat after she had swallowed. "What were those?" With a little more water the urge to gag ceased.

"More nourishment than you've had in a while," Lyra snorted in disapproval. "I prescribe that you eat three full meals a day, and then some." She nodded at Margaret. "If you need me, call." Then, bag in hand, she vanished.

Sarah stared blankly at the empty air that had been Lyra seconds before. "She didn't answer anything!"

Margaret sighed. "I'm assuming that she left it to me. Tricky, that Lyra." She clapped her hands together smartly, making Sarah jump and turn. When she pulled her fingers apart a tray appeared laden with food.

"If you can do magic," the girl said softly, watching the maid settle the tray on her lap, "then what are you? Fairies?"

Margaret's laugh was like a wind chime. "Certainly not. Fairies bite."

Sarah's thoughts traveled back in time to Hoggle, dutifully spraying his can outside the Labyrinth gates. "Oh."

"We're Fae," she continued, smoothing the covers distractedly. "Immortals with...certain magical abilities. But it comes with a heavy price."

Sarah looked up to see the maid's face downcast and slightly dark. For all of her fear and confusion, Margaret had done nothing to harm her, and pity blossomed in her chest. Softly she asked, "What? What is it?"

Margaret opened her mouth, but the door burst open without warning. She scrambled from the bed and swooped into a low curtsy. "Your majesty."

Jareth stood in the doorway looking far past exhausted, but still he retained his kingly edge. His eyes traveled over Sarah, looking worn herself.

"There's no time to spare," he addressed Margaret. Weak sunlight filtered through the window and sparkled off his clothes. Sarah realized with a start it was a breastplate. "Dress her quickly and escort her to the armory after the meal. Make haste," he added over his shoulder as he left, shutting the door with a snap.

"What the hell!" Sarah yelped. The maid simply wrung her hands and scuttled around the room.

"No, no time. Eat quickly, Sarah, while I go and find some clothes." She pressed her fingers to her temples as if to summon the tiniest bit more strength. When she looked up she saw a flicker of terror in the girl's green eyes. "It's alright, everything's going to be fine," she soothed, regaining composure. "Now eat, or the king will have my head."

Sarah watched Margaret dart out the door and close it behind her. Limply, numb, she fell against the pillows and stared at her food. Mechanically she dug in, not believing the maid for a second.

* * *

Jareth bounded down the steps two at a time, chasing his shadow across the wall. Brock was waiting at the bottom, his fiery red hair gleaming in the torchlight, looking a bit stirred up. Together they stalked down a long hall, two pairs of booted feet marching in time.

"Are the soldiers ready?" the king asked without turning his head.

"Yes," replied Brock.

"And Liuhath?"

"Yes, your majesty."

They came before two heavy oaken doors. Jareth waved them open and strode into the large room beyond. Armor, weaponry, all manner of war-related items lined the walls. It was empty of soldiers-they were already outside.

Brock had his sword strapped on, but picked up a monstrous shield. It was large, round, and studded with bronze. "I'll go ready the troops," he stated. Jareth was contemplating the wall before him so that his general could only see his back. He began to leave, heaving the shield to a shoulder.

"Brock."

He turned back to his king, who had not moved.

"If we fail, you know what to do." His voice was barely a whisper, but contained all authority. "Do not hesitate to wield Liuhath in my stead."

The general closed his eyes and took a slow, steadying breath. Sedately he walked to Jareth's side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We may not be sons of man, but neither are we the servants of Hades. Not yet." Brock's voice was deep and steady. "We shall prevail." Then he turned on his heel and left his king with closed eyes.

The ground rumbled and shook, rattling the weaponry.

It was coming.

* * *

Margaret was tugging, pulling, and pushing the boots on while Sarah crammed the last bit of food into her mouth. "Hurry!" the maid was pleading. A sudden quiver of the walls made them both jump.

"What was that?" Sarah hissed, standing to finish the boots. Margaret stepped back to survey her flustered attempts at dressing Sarah in the right garments. Tight pants, snug shirt, boots, vest for padding. Nothing loose, billowy, or otherwise easily grabbed.

They had managed to get her hair up, away from her face. It wasn't elaborate, or remotely pretty, but the maid had insisted. She hadn't explained anything either, Sarah thought stubbornly, but the quaking earth was putting them both on edge.

"We're out of time," Margaret said, shaking slightly and grabbing Sarah by the hand.

The world disappeared and reappeared too fast-Sarah regretted the extra breakfast she'd had. For a moment she swayed, catching herself with the wall.

"Thank you, Margaret," said a silky voice. She stiffened and turned. Jareth was across the room with his back to her, clad in shiny black armor. It made no noise as he walked to a wall filled with objects Sarah had no name for. Smoothly if hugged and followed every contour of his body, like a second skin. "Go, take care of the others," he was saying. Margaret gave a little dip and hurried eagerly from the room.

Sarah watched, frozen in place, as he continued to pick things off the wall. He was tall, and beautiful, and terrible. When he turned she finally got a proper look at his mismatched eyes for the first time in six years. All of the things she wanted to scream at him, tear him to pieces with, fled from her tongue.

Jareth dropped his load onto a wooden table and finally met her gaze. "Come here," he said simply, as if he wanted to show her something. Warily Sarah approached, but refused to speak. He looked up and down the length of her body as if trying to memorize it. "Good, Margaret dressed you appropriately. Now. Hold out your arms." He lifted a larger piece of metal-a cuirass, she realized.

"No," she replied, and watched his face harden.

"There's no _time_ for this, Sarah!" he spat, stepping closer.

"Tell me what's going on." The courage in her voice surprised them both.

His gaze flitted briefly between her eyes. Searching. "I'll talk. If you do as I say."

She bit her lip to keep the exasperated sigh inside. What was it with these creatures and compromises? Silently she held her arms out to the side.

He nodded once and slipped the cuirass over her head. "Do you know what we are, Sarah?" Jareth asked conversationally. "Me, and Brock, and Margaret?"

"Fae," she replied, remembering what the maid had said. "Immortal."

"Yes, and Lyra, you've met her." It was unnerving how he could make such serious talk sound so average. "But do you know what Fae are?"

Sarah was momentarily distracted by the Goblin King circling her like a hawk. He was buckling and tying the straps of her cuirass together. "No..."

"We are the Fallen," he said softly, picking up another piece from the table. He kneeled on the floor to secure her greaves. "A race without grace."

She wasn't paying attention to the armor anymore. At some point she should have noticed that it was very light, no heavier than a sweater. "Fallen? Not like...an angel?" Sarah stared down at the top of Jareth's ethereal head. He reached for another piece and looked up at her.

"Exactly like an angel."

He gave her a moment to gape openly at him, then focused on fixing the cuisses over her thighs. That only made her gape some more.

"It was not a fate I or any of the Labyrinth's residents chose. Our forefathers tried to tear down heaven's gate-they sought humanity, and were punished for shunning all they had been given." Jareth straightened up to find the verebraces and vambraces. "The Underground is named so for a reason. When humans think of the three planes-Heaven, Hell, and Earth-they see it as stacked, with Heaven above and Hell below." Satisfied with his work, he turned to the wall of weapons. "My world is right beneath yours, sandwiched between Earth and Hell. It is our destiny, as the Fae, to live out eternity here." Swiftly he plucked a dagger from the wall. "We have no mortality-therefore we cannot perish and return to heaven. If we _were _to die..." He shrugged. "That journey is unknown to us."

Sarah was having a difficult time thinking, or breathing, for that matter. She was in a world of fallen angels. "What about everything else in the Labyrinth?" Snatches of images played in her mind of Ludo, Hoggle, Didymus, the worm, the fierys-

The Goblin King turned from his search for a dagger sheath. "Magic and outcasts. Things that...slip through the cracks, if you will." The last bit was whispered into her ear as he walked to the other side of the room, and, while her eyes widened, she managed to suppress the shiver. "Of course," he continued a little louder, "_we_ created our own magic."

"Goblins?" Sarah asked, hoarse with revelation.

"Underneath my world is a solid layer of magic-a barrier between us and Hell," Jareth said, fastening her new dagger about her waist. "But there is evil that reaches out in veins, which will occasionally break and push through to us. The goblins came from such a thing, but are stupid enough to tame." He shrugged, then looked thoughtfully into empty space. "After all, that's how my ancestor acquired the title of 'Goblin King.' Now...I think we're ready. Come."

Sarah watched as he walked to the door, grabbing a long staff from the wall as he went. Her mind was too full to process movement, but her body acted accordingly. Maybe she had read far too many fairytales as a child, because the explanation he had given her seemed entirely probable. Insane, but the jumbled pieces fit together ridiculously well to form the picture's entirety.

"Where are we going now?" She was practically running to keep up with his long strides. He did not answer, but twirled the staff menacingly and placed it into a holder on his back.

The hall they sped through was cramped, dark, and twisted, but soon they came to the throne room. Sarah noted that it was dirty, rags and scraps of garbage littering every surface, and completely devoid of goblins. With a pang she wondered where they could be-there was obvious evidence that they occupied the space a great deal of the time. They did not linger, but Jareth pushed on the two large doors and stepped into the sunlight.

She bolted down the steps after him, still trying to keep up with his fast pace, and slammed hard into his halted back. Jareth stood poised on two steps, as if remembering something. Without a word he grabbed her hand and drew their bodies together, clinking the armor. "Too far to walk," he explained as the world shifted.

Sarah blinked to find that they were outside in what looked relatively like a stone courtyard. She would have guessed that it was part of the path she had taken on her quest last time, although she could not recall the particular spot. Out of the corner of her eye was a large decorative vase, and she would bet it was near the Wiseman's residence.

Nor could she recall ever seeing a wall of soldiers. Dozens encircled them, some on horseback, many with spears, and a few stood at ground level with shields. They all wore the same sparkling armor she did, which made her think that she was dressed in borrowed protection.

Reflexively Sarah moved a little closer to Jareth, away from the menacing stares she was receiving from every angle, but he dropped her hand and strode to Brock.

"General, is the city evacuated?" he called.

"Yes, your majesty." The redhead was astride a proud chestnut stallion that was flicking his tail in anticipation. "We are ready, whenever you wish to begin."

"Very well." The men nodded at each other before Brock pulled a sheathed sword from the horse's pack and handed it to Jareth.

Sarah gasped when the sword was drawn, glinting in the sunlight. A golden glow radiated from it in Jareth's hand, and all of the horses pawed the ground in uncertainty. It was barely legible, but the faintest inscription was etched into the blade. _Liuhath._ He turned and began advancing on her.

'No, oh no,' she thought frantically. Her heart was pounding worse than the night before. The soldiers looked on as the distance closed between them to only a few short paces and Sarah backed up several steps, towards the middle of empty space. But something stopped her retreat from behind.

When she glanced over her shoulder there was only air. Sarah tried pushing back another step, and was halted again. She looked to find Jareth on top of her, holding the sword away from his body for all to see.

"It is time, Sarah." Jareth brought the sword between their faces with the swing of his wrist, the point between their eyes. A harsh 'swoosh' hit her ears as it split the air.

"What are you doing?" she whispered faintly. He refused to unlock his gaze from hers, even as he began extracting the glove of his left hand with his teeth. Sarah watched in horror as Jareth slid one pale finger down the side of the sword, marring his exquisite, slender hand. He pulled away, leaving a red streak.

"Now you." Sarah tore her gaze from the sword and pleaded at the Goblin King with her eyes.

"Why?"

"The barrier I put up only allows someone to pass through with a bit of sacrifice." He held the sword out to her a little more.

"But," she stammered, backing into the barrier again, "why me?"

"Because the Goblin King gave the girl certain powers," he all but growled so no one else could hear. "And he never got them back."

Something in his eyes contradicted his harsh statement, she realized. There was more to his words, but Sarah knew that if she did not do this, she would never find out what it was.

Carefully, so slow that it was painful for Jareth to watch, Sarah ran a finger down the sword, opposite the side he had. She winced a little at the sharpness of the edge but finished the job nonetheless.

He pulled the blade away and examined the stains. "Good." Sarah looked at her damaged finger and was about to place it in her mouth, but Jareth caught her hand with his un-gloved one. "Wait. Here." She watched in awe as he intertwined their fingers, the gesture decidedly protective. It made her insides squirm. "Sarah, look at me." As soon as she did another rumble vibrated under their feet. "There are dark things inside this barrier, and they will do anything to get out. We must prevent that from happening at all costs. I know you loathe me to the point of death," he continued softly, and her eyes wondered down to his lips, "but think of your friends. If we do not fix this, they will suffer a fate far worse than eternal slumber."

Her friends...they must still be alive then, even if she had yet to see them. She had no idea what was about to happen, but if they were in danger...

"I'll do it. Whatever you ask of me," Sarah nodded. "For my friends."

Jareth gripped her hand a little harder and rose his sword. With some effort he pushed it at the air, where it had halted Sarah's retreat moments before, and little electric sparks erupted around it. Halfway through he stopped and looked down at her again.

"I expect you to keep your oath," he said far too calmly. "And if I say run, you _will_ obey me." Then he thrust the rest of the sword through and a swirling wall of black mist appeared from the air. He dove into it, pulling Sarah behind him.


	4. Dueling Darkness

_Ah, time for some action. And don't be confused later on-there are flashbacks. Not long or anything, just snippets.  
Everybody's reviews, as always, were amazing. I worked really hard on this chapter...hope you like it! Let me know what you think._

_E. Jane_

* * *

IV

Dueling Darkness

The dark mist swirled ominously about them but was neither cold nor damp. Jareth held the sword high above his head where its glow pulsed, a beacon in the shadowed atmosphere.

"Watch where you step," he whispered, tightening his grip on Sarah's hand to the point of pain. It was odd how, in her terrified state of mind, she was able to register the soft feel of his fingers around hers.

"What are we looking for?" she whispered back, but saw before Jareth could answer. Liuhath's glow had chased some of the darkness away, as if repelling it. And on the ground she could see the cause of all this trouble.

A giant crack had ruptured the ground, cleaving it into jagged parts. Something was bubbling from the depths-a thick, oozing sludge. Sarah's blood curdled at the sight and she pressed a little closer to Jareth, hastily feeling for the dagger with her free hand.

"That's it," he breathed, taking it in with calculating eyes. The crevice looked wider than before he left, and the liquid pouring forth was new. "If we're lucky, this is all it will be-"

A splitting howl tore at the air, an unearthly wail. The ground rumbled again and a faint scratching noise began beneath their feet.

"It's trying to get out!" Sarah panicked, looking up at Jareth even though he had told her just that moments before. She couldn't ignore the gooseflesh spreading underneath her armor, making her want to dance away from stuff on the ground.

"We must hurry," he said, then yanked her toward the gap. "Don't step in it," the king warned, leading her around the growing pool of goo. Sarah thought ironically that he was repeating her words from that morning. "I need your hand again."

Remembering her oath to do whatever he asked, she thrust her bloodied fingers forward. Some of that red, she mused, belonged to Jareth. Delicately he took her slit finger, turned it over, and squeezed.

"Ah!" she hissed, but bit her lip when his gaze flickered to her. It stung as a drop of fresh blood pooled, then dropped from her finger and onto the black liquid. In wonder she watched as the place it hit steamed and the thing retreated a little, writhing in apparent agony. Suddenly it seemed a bit more grey than black.

Jareth did the same to his finger, with identical results. Now the liquid was coiling up onto itself with violent jerks and pulling back to the hole, definitely a lighter shade. They watched it give little squeals of displeasure, then dive completely beneath the ground. In the blink of an eye the scenery had changed from malicious darkness lapping towards their feet to relatively normal, albeit broken, stone. The crevice remained a yawning descent into the earth, but neither seemed keen to explore just how deep it was.

The sudden quiet and stillness was unnerving, and Sarah could hear her heartbeat thumping in her ears. Wait...that was not her pulse...

She turned back to Jareth, who was studying the ground with a frown. "What's that noise?"

"Drums," he replied distantly, pulling the black glove back over his hand. "The soldiers are beating them outside the barrier."

Something else reached her ears now. Wavering notes of high and low that created a bittersweet melody. "And they're...singing!" Sarah turned to the mist quizzically, as if she could see them through it.

"The darkness can't stand the noise. If it were to break the barrier, the commotion would help to hinder its progress," he was saying slowly. Still he frowned. "It retreated, but we did not bind it-"

A long black tendril shot from the crevice, shrieking and screaming. Sarah turned too slow to see it, but heard as Jareth gave a loud roar. "No!"

She was slammed onto the ground by the weight of his body and Liuhath spun from his hand, clattering on the stone, the warm glow flickering feebly. Sarah was too shocked to scream, even when Jareth pulled the staff from its place on his back, trying to fight off the snaking piece of darkness. Somehow he managed a standing position and was driving it back to the hole.

He was like a lion, or a bear, or a hawk, or...there were not words. Jareth was attacking the thing with pure animal instincts, growling when it hissed at him. Sarah gasped as he twirled the staff over his head and two blades sprung forth, one at each end. He continued to hack at it, but was too busy to see a second tendril creeping toward his feet.

One of the things Sarah had retained from her self defense class was quick, almost involuntary reflexes. Nimble fingers pulled the dagger out of the sheath with barely any thought. She did not know if this would work, but ran her aching finger down the blade anyway. Then without hesitation she ran and flung it through the air.

By some miracle it landed solidly in the second mass. The thing bubbled and spluttered, screaming at the potency of her blood. Jareth didn't seem to notice the dagger, but took advantage of the creature's pain. "Sarah, the sword!" The first tendril, as if understanding the words, lunged directly for his throat. A chop of his weapon continued their dance and Sarah skittered frantically for the blade.

'Damn this thing,' Jareth thought, dodging a blow. It was too much like water, breaking, reforming, changing shape when he sliced it. He used the weapon like an extension of himself to form a smooth attack, light on his feet and quick with every decision. But one wrong choice could be fatal, and the darkness was putting up a hard, strenuous fight.

She reached the sword with the tips of her fingers and scooped it up, almost falling as the momentum of her body threatened to propel her forward. More tendrils were beginning to spill out of the crack now, but she had tunnel vision for Jareth, his armor splattered with pieces of the darkness. As fast as her legs could carry her she ran, Liuhath glowing strongly again in her grasp.

"Jareth!" He and the darkness looked to her, and the sword, in the same instant. The darkness knew what that blade was, and unleashed the most ear-splitting noise it had conjured yet. Several tendrils shot around Jareth, ignoring him completely, and caught Sarah around the legs. Her scream met and matched its own as it bound her tightly, upending her so that she landed with a hard smack on her side, and drug its prey through the black pools to the crack. She clawed at the ground with her free hand, scrambling for purchase, and a vivid screech tore from her throat. "_Jareth_!"

_Swallow it, devour the sword, break it, break it_... It would take the girl, if it meant destroying the weapon. Her life was of no consequence...

That scream, _his name _ripped from her lips in a moment of gut-twisting terror, pushed the Goblin King over the edge. Jareth practically flew the few feet separating them and pounced on top of Sarah, pressing her shoulders into the ground. Her screams were interrupted as she went face-first into the muck, clinging to him with one hand and the sword with the other. She felt like she would rip in half as Jareth and the darkness used her as their rope in a grim kind of tug-o-war. And Jareth was losing. They were all bellowing fiercely, wailing their frustration and pain in sounds that were not words. Then with his last bit of strength, Jareth's fingers found the hilt, wrapped over Sarah's, and plunged Liuhath into the darkness.

Sarah went deaf with the roar and blind with the white light that burst from the sword. It engulfed the space almost solidly, pushing the mist away. The darkness' hold on her released as if she were made of fire.

The goo sucked in on itself, back down the hole, fleeing, and the ground trembled so forcefully that Sarah lost her balance. But Jareth reached forward and drug her into him, the sword their anchor in the newly whipping wind. With a mighty groan the rift in the earth closed, mending and issuing a line of steam at the fracture.

The wind dropped. The crack disappeared. The mist dissipated. Jareth and Sarah clung to each other as hard as they could, wrapped around Liuhath, breathing so raggedly it burned. Around them the ring of soldiers halted their chorus and drum beating, shocked.

Finally Jareth had gulped enough air to think, finding the shaking girl in his arms. "Sarah?" He released his grip on the sword, prying his fingers from the hilt. Urgently he cupped her face in his hands, pushing away her hair and the dark sludge. "Sarah, can you hear me?"

All she could see was black. Black goo, Jareth's black armor. Until he tilted her face up and she saw color in his mismatched eyes. "Yes," she whispered, shaking like a leaf. But she couldn't stop-

"Jareth!" Brock was running toward them-apparently the barrier had broken. His sword was drawn, at the ready.

"It's done," the king said, still looking at Sarah. "Re-set the barrier-no one comes in any farther until this area has been thoroughly inspected."

"Shall I take the girl to Lyra?" he whispered, watching as Sarah swallowed forcefully, unable to free her hands from Jareth's armor. They seemed to be glued there.

"No," he said, voice disturbingly calm. Smoothly he rose, bringing Sarah up with him. She was fully into his arms, armor and all, seconds later. "Put Liuhath away, but keep a few men about. I won't take any chances."

Brock nodded. He wrenched the sword free from the ground, dripping nastily with black ooze. When he looked up he saw only his ring of men, waiting for an order. "Officers, to me!" he yelled. "There are new commands from your king."

* * *

The castle's physician was a stubborn lady. She'd always been that way, even in her youth. So when Margaret had gathered the other maids, running to barricade themselves in the inner rooms, Lyra had planted herself firmly at a window overlooking the Labyrinth. She needed to see what happened, in case several sickbeds were required after the event.

Imagine her surprise when all the soldiers were standing, untouched. Only the king and mortal seemed to have battled at all. It puzzled her thoroughly, for Lyra had lived many centuries and once before witnessed a dark vein breaking through to their world. The ordeal had taken many lives, and much magic, to bind the evil back in place. She watched the pair on the ground for a moment and noticed the girl was not moving. That could only mean her expertise would be required shortly, so the physician vanished to her own quarters.

Jareth reappeared at a wrought iron gate. Without ceremony he kicked it open, not bothering to use magic. Sarah hung limp in his arms like a rag doll, devoid of enough strength to even clutch at his chest like she had moments before.

And she was cold, so cold, he thought. Like ice. In fact- He strode more quickly, watching in horror as little frost crystals took hold on her armor.

'Needles,' her brain thought sluggishly. 'Pricking me...' Her skin felt like she had been thrown into a snowdrift. Down her throat a slimy sensation made her gag, as if a slug had taken up residence there. Limbs would not respond when she tried to wiggle.

Lyra was holding the door open for them as Jareth stepped through the herb garden. Inside he ducked, avoiding the dried plants hanging in bunches from the ceiling. She pointed to the small cot she had constructed before the fire.

Sarah's mind was going back in time, regressing to things the had shunned out of pain. Memories that made her feel guilty, and angry, and ashamed, and hurt... Like the cold pricks on her skin now...

"_Mommy, stay!" wailed a tiny brunette girl. It was selfish of her to cry, she knew that, but if she broke Linda's heart a little she might stay. Her mother kneeled and planted a soft kiss on her forehead._

"_Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll see you at Christmas! Jeremy and I will take you to see the big tree in New York City. You know the one, beside the ice-skating rink?"_

_The girl sniffled. "Promise?"_

"_I promise, baby," the woman smiled, crushing her in a hug. After a few moments she disentangled herself gently. "I love you, Sarah," she whispered. Then she grabbed her waiting suitcase, bounded down the steps, into the pelting rain, and jumped into the taxi without a word to her ex-husband._

_Sarah clung to her father's pants leg as it drove away, to the only staple of familiarity in this second of the shifting world, not knowing this would be the last time she ever saw Linda Williams._

"Jareth!" Lyra said in alarm. "Her lips are turning blue!" Indeed they were, the rest of her body not far behind.

"It shouldn't be affecting her this badly," he said quietly. "The darkness can't take someone by merely touching them!" Together the two were wrenching off the armor. Jareth tried wiping away more of the sludge from her face, but only succeeded in transferring large quantities from himself onto her. "Sarah, don't do this to me," he whispered harshly in her ear. Lyra was pulling things from the shelves now and dropping them to the floor when they weren't satisfactory.

The Goblin King turned her hands over. Nothing wrong there. Her slitted finger was even healed, as it should be. What had he missed, that she was slipping so fast? A crashing jar did not make him flinch as Lyra discarded something.

"Where_ is_ it?" she howled, moving to another cabinet.

Sarah's eyelashes fluttered and a white powder drifted onto her cheeks. It looked a little like snow. Jareth brushed it away and felt her skin, like chilled porcelain, stiffen.

_She dragged the wooden guitar behind her, bumping it along the uneven road. Not a soul would give her a cent. Sarah had stood on the street corner _all day_ and strummed until her fingers were raw, but no one could spare any change for her instrument's case. 'Someone will find it, lying there,' she mused, 'the velvet lining turned into a waste can by now, probably.'_

_The underpass was dirty. Several figures scuttled around, all dressed in torn rags and sodden patches. She imagined that she was beginning to appear the same. Rubble was piled in little heaps, slightly reminiscent of a junkyard, each one hoarded by it's own derelict keeper. Some even seemed to be direct parts of their discarded treasures. A large oil drum was the center of attention, where many were attempting to warm their hands._

_Sarah walked right to it and ignored the slimy people calling out to her. Suddenly she was filled with a morbid sense of calm-really, how could this get any worse?_

"_Here, girly, watcha doin' round this place?" squawked an old woman. Her matted hair tumbled about her shoulders in a filthy mass, and she grinned a snaggle-toothed smile._

_The girl plunged her hand into her coat pocket and fingered the bills there. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to get to Vegas. She tried to smooth them and the loose change without making any noise, for the others were looking now as if they could smell money on her._

_Something crept into her mind as she lifted the battered guitar to eye level. She did not need this anymore. It was worthless, just like all her ambitions._

"_I've brought you," she presented softly, "a gift." Then without further ado she dropped it into the oil drum._

_The ragged crew looked on in wonder as the flames consumed the new firewood._

"_What didya do that for?!" screeched the old woman. Sarah thought that she was contemplating how much money or food she could have bargained for it._

_But that wasn't the point. It was her way of saying the world had won. She quit._

_Numb, Sarah turned on her heel and stalked off. That fire could do nothing to warm her as it swallowed her dreams whole. Dead._

Lyra growled in frustration. "We're losing her-nothing works!" Several abandoned jars were scattered around the floor, and Sarah's skin was covered in a mixture of magic oils and dark sludge.

The girl's lips parted, letting out a soft whoosh of air, one faint syllable reaching Jareth's ears. "Dead."

His eyes widened, own mouth opening to protest, but he felt the tingle from her breath. It was like pins and needles on his face...

"She's swallowed it." Out of the corner of his eye he saw the physician freeze and turn to him stiffly. "I pushed her face down into the darkness, when the thing was dragging her to the rift," Jareth continued, his voice breathy like there was no air left in his lungs. He tore his eyes away from Sarah's still form to look at Lyra. "And she swallowed it."

The ancient woman's face sagged visibly, nearly creating lines on her pale skin. But not quite. "There's only a single cure for that in all the Underground," she whispered. He nodded back solemnly, then turned to the slipping girl.

"All of the Underground owes this to Sarah. The darkness would not have been bound without her-without my power in her blood." Slowly, so slow Lyra barely saw it, Jareth reached out and cupped Sarah's face in his hand.

"You know what it will do to her, Jareth!" she barked, suddenly loud. Her king turned fiery eyes her way, reprimanding his physician for attempting to dissuade him from his already stubborn resolve, and twisted his other wrist in the air. A small vial appeared in his palm. It was no bigger than his eye, a delicate, tiny thing made of crystal and air. Within glowed a silvery liquid. It flowed and climbed the walls restlessly like living mercury. Silently he took the stopper out, slid his hand beneath Sarah's head, and placed the rim at her lips.

"I know what it will do to her," he agreed, pausing in his movement. "May Heaven grant her the grace to forgive me." He tipped the vial.

* * *

_Note: I know, I know...cliffhanger. It was irresistible. But you can't kill me now, things are just starting to get interesting! ...Review?..._


	5. Light

_This little story is moving along, huh? Practically begging to be written, which is why the updates have been so frequent. That, and I want to know what you all think. But we're coming to the point where I have less and less pre-written material to work with and I'll have to make some...choices concerning the plot line. If I'm gone for a little while(don't worry, not _that_ long) have faith that I'll return with chapters worth the wait._

_Your reviews last time were simply amazing. Another thing that keeps me working, pounding out this story at all hours. Enjoy!_

_E. Jane_

* * *

V

Light

Out of all her comatose induced nightmares, this one was by far the worst. Not because she was frightened in any way, but because Sarah knew what happened at the end. For years she had blocked the haunting memory, pushed it to the farthest corner of her mind, but it did not mean she had _completely_ forgotten. Her will had been strong, and stubborn, and drugged...she might not be so lucky the second time around.

So when she strolled into a ballroom, frosted over in dripping candles and white ribbons, the very air laced with magic, she panicked. It was as if she was in her body, but had relinquished all control over her actions. The reins were in the tight, unyielding restraint of a force too powerful to wrestle from. As if she was an innocent bystander, simply watching, just like the other dreams had been.

_At first Sarah floated lazily among the crowd. Many twirling masks leered in her direction, but she ignored them. Her childhood fancies were coming at her from all angles in dizzying clarity. Then a growing sense of urgency was welling up in her chest-she needed to find something...and fast._

_When she began pushing through the crowd, the other guests, for the most part, ignored her. This girl was obviously lost and only hindering their dance space. Snippets of a blue, twinkling coat would catch her eye, bright against the pale pastels of the dancers, but was gone in an instant. Sarah did not really know if that was the object of her search. She followed it nonetheless, its pull on her beyond comprehension. Something in her mind desperately wanted to catch the person hiding inside, to end this dizzying chase of cat and mouse. Maybe he had answers she was looking for._

_Sarah found him with the snap of a fan. A dancer lowered the extravagant, feathery thing to reveal an otherworldly man and two woman dancing somewhat...closely. But he paid them no mind, simply walked away_ _as if they did not exist. She looked at him, lips parted in fascination and wonder when he came to her side. The man's gaze had never strayed from hers. Not once._

_She was in his arms without the exchange of any words. They both simply knew that they belonged to this dance-were meant to ride the gentle crescendos and falls together. Gradually he guided her to a more open spot of floor, one gloved hand around her waist and the other cupping her fingers. They were moving so effortlessly it would be impossible anywhere but here, in this place of pure magic. It was like he had picked her up and was waltzing her through air._

'Sarah, don't let this happen again,' the rational part of her brain pleaded. She could feel her actual body, as if miles away, slipping slowly into oblivion. Where it was dark, and very cold... 'Don't let this be the last thing you ever see-'

_Somewhere in the ballroom hung a gilded clock with thirteen hours. The device was hidden quite well among the other finery. If you weren't looking for it, and no one was, really, then you would never notice it. One hand was creeping steadily towards the top, just as her vision started to blur. The man held her a little tighter and paused in the slow song he had been whispering._

_The dancers were melting, she thought. This hadn't happened before. Where was the part when she'd struggled away, battled through the crowd, and smashed the ballroom's wall? When she'd heard this man's tender promises and pushed them back into his hands, she couldn't take them, not then-_

_A cool hand on her cheek tried to bring her back, but Sarah's eyelids only fluttered. It was so hard not to just...slip away..._

_Then something warm hit her mouth. It was smooth like water, but seemed to spread out from her throat. Now it was running through her, into her veins, making her toes and fingers tingle. It wasn't unpleasant-the sensation was like a soft caress, as if she was being washed out. Clean, she thought, her brain suddenly back at attention. If you could drink light-sunlight, moonlight, starlight-that's what she would have guessed it was._

_She took a gulping breath and opened her eyes. Nearly, it felt as though she hadn't been breathing for some time. The cold in her body had vanished, replaced by a warm, living, pulsing thing. Even the slimy lump in her throat was, thankfully, gone._

_Jareth. That was his name, Sarah thought sleepily. He was pulling away, like he had just...kissed her._

_Her brain went into overdrive, retreating backwards. Fighting the darkness, putting on armor, bog water, the Goblin King kissing her on the hood of a red car-_

_The bubble burst, the perfect ballroom disintegrating in an instant. All of the dancers, the decorations, and the sparkle, fell down. Down and away into the dark. Jareth's hold on her was firm, and so they floated in the empty space, watching the rest plummet. They did not seem to mind, simply faded from sight and continued to laugh obnoxiously, still enjoying themselves._

_Sarah's silver fairytale gown swirled around her ankles in an unfelt breeze. Jareth was tilting her face up to his again, away from the drop below._

"_Sarah," he said, voice unusually disembodied, "please wake up."_

_She frowned. Was she asleep?_

"_You need to wake up," he tried again. This time there seemed to be two of Jareth's voices, echoing off of each other. He was fading like the dancers, and Sarah felt herself slipping down. "I'm sorry."_

_With a jolt he was gone and she fell, ripped from support._

Her eyes flew open to a white ceiling. The air was soft and calm, languid. 'It must be late,' she thought hazily, 'because the sunset it tainting the walls red...'

She was in a small bed, one of many lined up against a side of the long room. Carefully she turned her head right, better to see them. It looked a little like an infirmary. Crisp and clean. But all the beds were empty. In fact, there wasn't a soul in the entire room.

With the rustle of her hair on the pillow she turned left, and the breath caught in her chest.

There was the Goblin King, asleep in an uncomfortable looking chair. He still wore the black armor, but appeared as if he had at least attempted to get clean.. Sarah blinked again and tried to focus her sight, sitting up against the pillows. Everything was so _clear._ She looked past his still form, to a vase filled with red flowers, and could see the veins in every leaf. But they were a good thirty feet away-

"Finally!" a voice declared in a harsh whisper. Sarah turned sharply to see Lyra bustling down the row of beds. "We thought you'd never wake up!"

"Lyra," Sarah tried, her voice shaky. "What happened?"

The fall of the physician's face only confirmed her suspicions that something _had_ happened. She shook her head, catching the dying sunlight in silver locks.

"He's been trying for hours to bring you out of the coma," she said, looking to Jareth. Then softer, "Been telling you to wake up when he thought I couldn't hear." Sarah's heart twisted. Lyra sighed and began walking away, unconcerned of how the girl's face had shifted.. "He'll want to explain himself, when he wakes." Then she disappeared through a door and was gone.

Sarah looked to the door for several minutes, beseeching Lyra to return in quiet agony. How on earth was she going to ask Jareth herself? After what she had just dreamt?

Silently she looked to her lap and choked on a gasp. Her _hands_...they were glowing. Sparkling. She rubbed her fingers together experimentally, but the stuff wouldn't budge. It wasn't _on_ her.

It was _in_ her.

"Don't worry. It fades, after a while."

She snapped her head to the left again at the sound of Jareth's velvet voice. He was perfectly awake, and lounging lazily in the wooden chair. For all the world, that miserable seat might have been his throne.

At that moment Sarah felt so completely disoriented that she couldn't form a response. Instead she peeled back the covers to reveal her nightdress and looked at her feet. They were the same. Jareth watched mutely as she continued to examine her skin-all of it, every inch, seemed to be pulsing with an unearthly light.

"What is it?" she whispered finally, turning back to him. His face was a hard, cold mask, and she hated it for not revealing anything.

He rose from the stiff chair and crossed to the window opposite her bed. Casually he took a seat on the wide sill, letting his gaze wonder through the glass and outside.

"Remember when I told you, down in the armory, that the Fae made their own magic?"

Sarah nodded blankly.

A smile crept onto the Goblin King's face. The sunset had deepened in color, streaking his blond locks with fire. "One of my ancestors committed a crime of inconceivable magnitude. After storming heaven's gates, and being sentenced forever to the Underground, he stole one of the pearls." He was shaking his head now, in mild wonder and amusement. "It was lucky, really, that he did, for from the pearl came two things. Today we refer to them as the Gifts, precious items inherited along with my title as Goblin King. The blade of Liuhath, and this." Jareth twisted his wrist and a small crystal vial appeared. There was nothing inside, save a tiny, silvery drop of liquid.

"Your ancestor stole a pearl from heaven's gate," Sarah tried slowly, eyeing the vial, "to forge a sword and make...a potion." Her brain could barely wrap around all of this, but Jareth nodded.

"Liuhath was born to battle the veins of darkness-it, along with the magic of it's master, is the only thing that can bind the evil. Goblin Kings are notorious for fighting the darkness because our magic, our bloodline, is the only one that it responds to."

She frowned. "But...you needed my blood today." Her face flickered, and Jareth knew she understood.

_But what no one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and gave her certain powers._

He wouldn't turn away from her, even as Sarah's eyes shot with a fierce, new intensity. "You didn't."

Jareth spread his hands wide. "I did. And because you have part of my magic, I needed you to help me bind the vein." She went back to studying her fingers. "But I've done something of even more consequence today."

Her head shot up from analyzing her golden skin. She couldn't see yet, he thought, how other things had changed. Sarah's hair was a sheet of shining chestnut, her eyes a wild, haunting green. Every feature, beautiful before, had been magnified a hundredfold. "What have you done to me?" The question was a whisper that spilled from her nearly motionless lips-Jareth would have almost preferred that she scream at him instead.

Slowly he rose from his resting place on the sill, walked to her bedside, and dropped the vial onto her lap. "The second half of the pearl was made into pure, raw magic. We no longer require it today-the magic is a part of us. But then, when my ancestors were new to this world, it was a means of defense. The darkness could not enter their bodies and claim them, because it cannot stand the light." He gestured to her hands and her jaw slackened. When Sarah said nothing, Jareth continued. "And this morning, during the battle, some of the darkness penetrated your body."

Sarah cradled the vial in her sparkling hands, fearing that she would shatter it's delicacy by breathing on it. "That's why I was having those...nightmares," she mused thoughtfully. It made perfect sense now. Her body sagged a little with relief and she looked up at Jareth, surprised that his face was still so hard. Guiltily, she offered the vial to him. "I'm sorry-thank you. For saving me." Her own face fell as he took the vial, body going rigid with anger.

"I don't think you quite understand, Sarah," he said through gritted teeth.

Suddenly she felt panicked at the look in his eyes. It was sorrowful, full of inexplicable torment. "I'm sorry!" she said again, louder. "I-I didn't think that saving me would come with such a heavy price!" Faintly she looked to the crystal vial and feared the worst. Had she taken something precious?

Jareth gritted his teeth even harder and closed his eyes. "You fool," he whispered. Then, so loud she about toppled from the bed, "I have not saved you!" He shook the vial in her face. "I have _condemned_ you!"

Sarah's gaze flitted between the offending vial and Jareth's troubled eyes. Without warning he dropped the container onto the bed and grabbed her shoulders roughly. "Look at what I've done to you," he said softly, and that scared her far more than the yelling. "You refused your dreams and made mortal life a living Hell. You save the _entire Underground_, and I, stubborn simpleton that I am, sought to save you from a fate worse that death by something equally as foul." His face was drawn now, cold mask slipping to reveal the faintest traces of fear. "I gave you the magic that changes a fallen angel to Fae. And a mortal to an immortal."

Her breath was coming in little sputtered gasps at Jareth's close proximity and this new information. "Immortal?"

"How can you ever forgive me," he was saying, taking a hand and brushing the hair from her face, "for damning you to an eternity in a place of outcasts? For taking away any chance you would ever have to see heaven yourself?"

'Don't faint,' she told herself harshly. In all of her mushy thoughts, one thing towered above the rest. Jareth-not the Goblin King, _Jareth-_was in agony because of something he had done to hurt her. He was...sorry.

"_You need to wake up," he tried again. This time there seemed to be two of Jareth's voices, echoing off of each other. He was fading like the dancers, and Sarah felt herself slipping down. "I'm sorry."_

"You..." she started, realizing her last dream must have been the secret words he had snuck to her. The ones Lyra hadn't been supposed to hear. Jareth withdrew his hand. Still he gripped her shoulders, waiting for the onslaught of hateful words. Words he deserved. "...saved me."

He stiffened for a moment, disbelieving what he had heard. "I couldn't let the darkness have you," he replied bitterly, "even if it meant selfishly turning you into a monster like me."

Sarah shook her head mildly, far too calm, he thought. Without a word she removed Jareth's hands and got up to look out of the window. The sun was just a sliver on the horizon now, bathing the Labyrinth below in hues with no name. So quietly that Jareth almost missed it, she whispered, "Monsters don't love."

At the end of the room the door burst open and Brock strode inside. When he saw Sarah he blinked, then looked to a steely-eyed Jareth and remembered himself. With a low bow he said, "Your majesty, the Council has called an emergency meeting."

Jareth frowned. "Emergency? What for?"

Brock's gaze flitted uncertainly to Sarah. "Apparently a new, unknown Fae has been detected. And another rift has formed in the north."

Sarah jerked her head between the two. "Fae?" she rasped. An accusing stare was shot at Jareth. He had obviously left out a few details...

The sun disappeared at last, leaving the sky a bruised purple. Torches, small and compact, flared to life on the wall behind Jareth. "Then we must heed the summons. _Both_ of us." He looked pointedly toward Sarah, ignoring her comment, and she backed a little toward the sill.

"Summons? To where?" Warily she watched him come to her side.

"Brock," he commanded, taking Sarah by the hand, "fetch Margaret to prepare the girl." He nodded once to his king and the three vanished from the infirmary.

Sarah plopped onto a fluffy bed and looked about to see her tower room. Jareth was standing over her small form, looking irritated.

"I forgot about the Council," he muttered. "Of course they would find cause to worsen the situation."

Sarah watched him fret for a moment, rather like an owl who's feathers had been ruffled the wrong direction. 'He's more torn up about this than I am,' she thought in astonishment, and her chest prickled. This strange, mercurial being had taken care of her, however little he cared to admit it.

Silently she reached out her hand and grabbed a few of his gloved fingers. He turned sharply her way, stray hairs swinging with the whip of his head. Sarah tugged a bit on his hand and rose so that they were face to face. "I forgive you."

He opened his mouth to retort but she held up a hand.

"I may not understand everything that's happening, but you did save me, Jareth. And not just from the darkness...from my self-destructive life Aboveground." Had it only been a day since Billy Stagton "interviewed" her at The Rocks? Sarah shook those cobwebs from her mind. "You may think of immortality as a curse, but it's something humans have sought for ages. While you sought humanity..." That thought was very, very ironic. "The grass is always greener..." she trailed off at his intense stare.

"You may not want to forgive me just yet." That statement was cryptic, and foreboding, but she ignored the unease it made her feel.

"Then I forgive you for this far," she offered. For some reason she felt the great need to make...amends, maybe? Her acceptance of this new life was all she could think to do. Dwell on it too much, and it would overwhelm her. She could contemplate the harsh realities of "forever" another time. "I have just one question." Jareth did not move, not even the fingers still in her hand. She blinked once, trying to work up the courage. "Why did you kiss me?"

The corners of his mouth twitched up in a smile, something Sarah had not seen for ages. A knock on the door made them both turn.

"Miss Sarah-it's Margaret! Can I come in?"

Jareth made to move away, but that insufferable smile was still there, so Sarah tugged him back, and he let her. "Just a minute, Margaret!" she called. Then in a whisper to Jareth, "Not so fast, Goblin King!"

He smirked and leaned into her hair, the heat from his body so close that it radiated through her. "I will tell you," he whispered against the shell of her ear. "Later." Then he disappeared and Sarah stumbled slightly, realizing he had been supporting her.

She frowned, feeling the heat on her cheeks, and muttered, "Jareth, you rat!" Hastily she remembered the visitor at her door and shouted, "Come in!"

The maid entered, carrying a heap of silks over one arm. She looked about the room, then shrugged, as if satisfied. Margaret could have sworn she had heard voices.

_Note: Congratulations to _**hazlgrnLizzy**, _who guessed right! What other things can you guess from this chapter, dear reviewers? waggles eyebrows_


	6. A Different Sort of Explanation

VI

A Different Sort of Explanation

The dark vein within the Labyrinth's walls had been sealed, examined, and deemed safe. All the residents were to be moved back in when the morning came and things could, hopefully, settle down into normal chaos. But Jareth was beginning to worry about this new rift in the north. Never before had two dark cracks appeared in so little time apart.

He had finally managed to get out of his armor and into appropriate attire. An audience before the Council was a serious, insanely ritualistic event. As Goblin King he had discussed much with them, more so than many of the other kingdoms. It seemed that his land was always the unstable, troubled one, although he did an excellent job of running things (in the opinion of his subjects). The Council liked to keep a tight rein on most actions concerning all Underground citizens, certainly, and the constant interfering tormented him to no end.

Sarah readily accepting her new fate had...set him on edge. Couldn't she see it, how he was only going to cause her more pain? But a traitorous little flip of his pulse made him shake his head. He had condemned himself as much as her, whether that be for the good or the bad. Jareth made a few last adjustments and vanished from the room. He reappeared outside of Sarah's and knocked smartly on the door, before he could argue himself into leaving her there.

Inside Sarah gasped a little when Margaret pulled firmly on her laces. "Just a moment!" the maid yelled, tying off the ribbon. The girl straightened somewhat awkwardly and put a hand on her ribs. "I know it's uncomfortable-silly Council," Margaret muttered lowly, patting Sarah's hand. "You've been very brave, my dear," she continued. It was the most she had said all evening, and Sarah smiled at her sincerity. She had gotten her cleaned up, introduced her to the bathtub right off her quarters, clothed her in this Hell of a dress, curled her hair, and altogether made her look marvelous. "Come in!"

She tried to control her breathing, and aching spine, as Jareth entered. But _now_ she really could not breathe at all.

He was the most terrifying thing she had ever seen. Intense deja vu overtook her as she absorbed his ensemble of blackest black-boots, breeches, open shirt, gloves, and a high-collared cape. The only light thing was his pale skin, bright as the moon, peeking from his chest and neck. And there, resting innocently against ivory skin, was the wicked pendent. Little horns curled down devilishly, the twisted insignia in the center suddenly very clear amidst her sharpened sight. With a start she realized she was staring.

And he was staring at her. Sarah blushed lightly and picked up the heavy black skirts. Honestly, she felt like some overly gothic chic in the corseted bodice. It was quite stiff with boning and the outside was a solid swath of material. There were no decorations sewn on it, only thick pleats in the many folds and layers. Appearances were very simple, and yet regal. On her feet, hidden in the shadows of her dress, were delicate flats. The laces on the back were devious-they were tied tight enough to break her in half. But she made herself stand painfully erect. "Ready."

Jareth slid his eyes from the hem of her skirt up, over her waist and bare shoulders, and stopped at her determined, somewhat pink, face. "Very well." He offered a gloved hand, trying to banish the thought of how...queenly she looked, and she took it.

Margaret watched them disappear quietly, then plopped on the bed, fanning her face with a few fingers. "Luck be with them."

He never really understood why his ancestors had put the portal in the depths of the Labyrinth, instead of someplace inside the castle. It was contained in one of the least traversed areas, in a mausoleum-like piece of architecture surrounded by scraggly, long dead trees. There was little vegetation, just dirt and a few withered weeds, presumably a tactic to frighten off any runners from the area. The area bled a certain power, sleeping perhaps, but still prominent. That's where they reappeared when Sarah teetered in her tortuous dress. Jareth caught and righted her easily, simultaneously waving the heavy stone doors of the portal open.

"What is this?" Sarah managed. One of Jareth's arms remained around her waist, lending a fair amount of support, but talking was difficult. Especially when she could feet the heat of his hand pulsing through his glove and into her dress.

"A shortcut."

"And why all this black?" she wondered aloud, letting him lead her up the steps.

"Because the Council does not like distractions," he explained, "and color tends to fall into that category. Sarah, listen to me." They had reached the top step. "These creatures are stubborn, difficult, self-righteous beings. Straying even slightly from their rules may reap a less than desirable outcome."

"Rules?" she blinked. "Jareth, I don't _know_ any of the rules!" A blanket of panic smothered her.

His eyes danced a little, flickering...amusement? "I know, which is why you are going to have to trust me."

Trust...the Goblin King. 'Sarah,' she chided herself, 'what have you done?' But she nodded anyway and they stepped inside.

Together they pushed into the darkness, feet clicking on the stone floor. After a while Sarah began to worry-the structure in the Labyrinth had only been a few feet long. Jareth continued to walk, unfazed, until a faint tingling began in her limbs. He must have felt it also, for he stopped, waited, and listened.

A great whoosh of air hit them like a wall. Before them two rows of torches came to life, erupting in little sparks of flame. They created a pathway in the dark, but beyond that there was nothing save empty space. Jareth began to walk and Sarah followed, marveling at how there seemed to be no floor, ceiling, up, down, or anything. Simply them, and the torches.

Not long after, the torched path halted at a large wooden double door. It was black, almost charred looking with age, and large brass knockers were the only ornamentation, one to a side.

Jareth unwrapped the arm from Sarah's waist and used it to draw her hand around his elbow. It seemed he failed to trust her to stand very long in that dress without support. Frankly, she agreed, although his treatment was beginning to make her feel vaguely crippled.

_"Who enters the House of the Council?"_ boomed a strangely monotone voice. If there had been walls, they would have shaken.

"The Goblin King, ruler of the Labyrinth, and guest Lady Sarah," Jareth replied, as if talking to someone directly before him. "We answer to the summons of the Council."

_"Enter, and complete your task, but taint not the sanctity of this house,"_ the voice bellowed. For a moment an echo lingered, then faded to nothing.

A stone basin, raised on a stone pedestal, appeared from thin air before the door. Jareth dipped a finger into it and caused only a single ripple in the placid, colorless liquid. Deftly he brought the finger to his forehead and drew a mark. Sarah watched him do it curiously, then dip his finger again. When he brought it to her forehead, repeating the action, she did not shy away. Perhaps it was some sort of symbol to grant entrance, or mark themselves as friendly visitors.

Its purpose complete, the basin disappeared, leaving the way clear. The massive doors began to open outwards slowly, noiselessly.

A church was what she would have described it as, had someone asked. Gothic pillars rose hundreds of feet, mountains of brick and wooden spires disappearing into vaulted and domed ceilings. Rick carvings adorned the walls, and chandeliers dropped from heavy chains bearing fifty candles apiece. It was a cathedral in nearly every visual aspect-it even had large stained glass windows at the back.

But instead of pews, a pulpit, or an organ, there was a large semicircle table. Several figures sat behind it, all robed and hooded in light-absorbing black. Although their faces were hidden by shadow, the newcomers could feel the stares sweep them.

Jareth dove into a low bow, sweeping his black cape with one arm. Sarah mimicked him with a deep curtsy, completely unsure of what else to do, and beginning to feel a little faint. They stayed like that while the silence drug on.

Finally, after quite some time of stillness, and blistering pain for Sarah, the middle figure rose from the table. "Goblin King and guest, welcome to the House of the Council." His voice was deep, robust, but a little sharp. "Rise, and drink deeply from our chalice of Unity." They straightened and looked up to see a large golden goblet floating in the air. Jareth took a step back, nodding for Sarah to drink first. She slid a glance to him out of the corner of her eye, calming the trepidation that something could, would, go wrong, then grasped the cup. For something so large, and full of a wine-like liquid, the glass was extremely light. She took a small sip and the mark on her forehead flared to life.

The robed figures looked on as the cup passed to Jareth, with the same effect. "Both Goblin King and guest are clean of darkness," the standing figure nodded. "And..." he paused, looking for the first time to his companions, "Fae." Sarah's sense of relief at no explosions and minimal reactions to the drink faded at that declaration. The goblet in Jareth's hand disappeared quietly along with the marks on their foreheads. "Your magic has reacted smoothly with ours," he told the two, "and therefore your presence in this house, being of honest and selfless intent, is permitted." Jareth barely contained himself from rolling his eyes toward the arched ceiling. Why did they feel the need to say that speech _every time_ someone entered here?

This person, who Sarah identified as someone more or less the leader, resigned himself gracefully to his seat. Two chairs appeared, one behind her and the other behind Jareth. He nodded slightly, to show they should take the seats, and she tried not to wince as her corseted dress pinched uncomfortably. The chairs were stone, hard, and completely devoid of cushions. She wondered briefly if the attempt to make guests here uneasy was intentional.

In perfect unison the robed figures drew back their hoods. The faces revealed were not what Sarah had expected at all. There were a few aristocratic, smooth and ethereal faces like Jareth, but the rest varied dramatically. Many other creatures-dwarves, elves, satyrs, centaurs, and beasts she could not identify-were here. It was like one of her childhood storybooks come to life, and she was having an increasingly difficult time keeping her eyes from expanding to saucers.

The center figure, who had conducted the ceremony thus far, looked the two over with stormy grey eyes. She thought he must be a Fae, too, for he looked as human as a person could get in the Underground. Black hair cropped short, strong jaw, and a stoic mask of emotions created his commanding visage.

"Goblin King," he said, "we were pleased upon receiving information this afternoon that the Labyrinth's dark vein was successfully sealed."

"Yes," Jareth replied smoothly, though Sarah caught the faintest icy hint beneath. "We were very fortunate-had the darkness broken loose, the number of troops would have been inadequate to fight. You must have had great faith in us," he continued, even colder, "to not send reinforcements."

The dark haired Fae's eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly at Jareth. "Certainly. With Liuhath, you could not lose. And, of course, the lady beside you."

All faces turned to Sarah then, including Jareth's. Suddenly she felt deliberately uncomfortable, like a wild animal, on show at the circus. Wisely she choked back the urge to slink deep, deep into the ground.

"True. I owe this lady a great amount of gratitude." Jareth turned back to the council. "Without her arrival the darkness would certainly have spread. Even here." The last part was said softly, a challenge, and the Council's leader reddened slightly.

"You know very well that we had no soldiers to spare."

"Not the ones parading around the countryside?" Jareth asked, as if inquiring about the weather. "They seemed like very capable troops, especially the sleeping ones. Practically fearless. But how foolish of me..."

He should have known the Goblin King would notice random troops wandering the Underground. Damn him for his owl form, they'd have to be more careful...

Jareth saw the spark of recognition in the other Fae's eyes. He had wondered about those troops for weeks now, marching aimlessly around the wilds of the Underground in little droves. Curious, as if hunting for something. The groups were usually small, unnoticeable. Unless you had owl eyes.

Sarah watched the polite battle rage a little warily and hoped Jareth knew what he was doing. The other Fae's lips were pressed tightly in a dangerous line. Then, with some alarm, she watched as they twitched up into a smile.

"On the honor of the Council, the very next time a dark vein breaks through to the Labyrinth, we will send twice as many troops as your own." Jareth's face hardened slightly at the trick, but remained blank. He was conveniently forgetting the point that it could be centuries, millennia, before another vein ruptured in his kingdom. "That's settled. Now-" A twist of his wrist brought forth a tiny crystal vial. Sarah recognized it immediately. "There are other matters to discuss."

Jareth's impassive face grew very still, eyes flashing severely. Very softly, he said, "Larimon-that particular object is solely the possession of the Goblin Kingdom. You have no right to-"

"As High Chancellor," he cut haughtily, "and with the consent of the Council, I have every right. Immortality is a very serious, delicate thing, Jareth."

A quick staring contest ensued until Larimon broke eye contact to rise and stride from the table. He came to stand in front of Jareth, then whirled around, presenting the vial to the Council as if it was evidence in a legal proceeding. "All that remains of the original Fae magic is the tiny drop contained in this vial. The knowledge and power of a great race in its most splendid form, gone forever to change this mortal girl-" he spun to Sarah, "-immortal." His steps were heavy as he came before Jareth again, the king's knuckles white on his seat. "Why, Goblin King, would you do such a thing?" Larimon's voice was soft, a mocking whisper. "Did you seek to repay the girl, without whose magic-yours in her veins-you could not seal the rift in your land? Or..." he continued, backing away, "was it for a more selfish purpose?" The council's eyes, far too many pairs to count, flitted back and forth between Jareth and Sarah. "I think it is wise for you to obtain an heir the natural way, of course. We all know that your little plan to change the mortal boy into a Fae, with this very potion, would have failed."

Sarah grew just that more rigid, her back already numb from the seat, as an icy feeling washed over her. Heir?! her mind screamed. First she thought of Toby, changed forever by the liquid in that vial, the future Goblin King... Then her. Pulse beating rapidly in her chest, her throat, her hands, she looked to Jareth in mixed horror and anger. Too bad she couldn't speak properly in this dress, or she would...would...

The Goblin King rose smoothly so that he and Larimon were face to face. Sarah expected little electric sparks to fly from the pure intensity. "The lady willingly fought the darkness, and in the process it managed to infiltrate her body. She sacrificed herself in order to save the Labyrinth, and, in consequence, _your hides_." The last bit, so blunt, caused Larimon and several on the Council to blink rapidly. "She deserved every ounce of the magic there-to be taken by the darkness after such a selfless act was unthinkable. And because the vial, and its contents, belongs to _me_... I saw no problem in the transformation, or the Council's...consent." With that he sat again and stared down each of the members in turn. "It appears that there are no objections," he said to Larimon. "Continue."

The High Chancellor looked ready to smash the crystal vial in his palm. Obviously he was greatly displeased at Jareth running this meeting, arguing with him, and winning hands down. Somehow, though, he remained as composed as possible.

"Very well, Goblin King. The Lady Sarah-" She blinked, this being the first time her name was used, "shall remain to live in your castle. I do not think it wise that such a large part of your power should be separated from you." Jareth smirked lightly at Larimon's obvious attempt to command something out of him.

"Of course-that was my intent all along."

Sarah turned her head to look at him sharply. It was? Did he mean to keep her locked in that tower room, despite what Margaret had said?

"Unless the lady objects?" ventured Larimon slyly. Jareth turned questioning eyes her way. She was supposed to trust him...

"No...no objections," Sarah managed slowly, turning to the Chancellor. This could be dealt with later, when she would beat Jareth senseless. "I will live in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City." Really, she thought, what other alternative did she have? The smelly Goblin City itself?

Jareth relaxed inwardly. That had been a close call, and he'd lied through his teeth. He could tell from the look on Sarah's face that he would regret it later. But he hadn't thought that far ahead, even though it was the obvious course of action to take. Fate was an odd thing, he mused. He'd never intended for her to stay, because hadn't he already tormented her enough? They were far beyond his selfish wants now. Sarah would have to endure life as an Underground resident, whether she wanted to or not, bound by immortality.

Satisfied, Larimon strode back to the table. "We'll keep the remnants of this Gift safe." The crystal vial disappeared. Jareth scowled darkly, but did not speak. He had already pushed his luck quite far today. The Chancellor snapped his fingers and Liuhath appeared on the table before him.

Jareth stood with so much force that any other seat would have toppled. Sarah was close enough to hear the faint growl emanate from his throat, and saw the edges of his cloak whip a little with sparking magic.

"Don't worry, Goblin King," he waved flippantly, the title a sneer. "We won't be required to keep the second Gift. The rift in the north needs attention, and you two are the only ones with the power to wield this binder." He picked up Liuhath and held it high over his head. When he let it go it floated in the air above the table. "Now the Council will bestow our blessing upon this mighty weapon," he continued, as if reading an excerpt from a ritualistic text, "to enhance it's power for the task ahead." The rest of the Council stood and joined hands.

Liuhath began to glow fiercely and vibrated with a soft hum. Sarah felt something awaken in her veins, pulled to the sword, a part of it-she looked to Jareth and saw his eyes locked on the weapon, suddenly a golden amber that swallowed the pupils. They were frightening, feral, powerful, as if they could see..._everything_. Then Liuhath turned sharply in the air and flew at them hilt first. He did not flinch, simply reached up and grabbed it without batting an eye. "I suggest you begin your journey soon," Larimon said pompously. "There is no barrier around the new rift. You and the lady will have to travel swiftly, if you wish to reach it in time." Like it was a choice.

Jareth gave a menacing swipe with the sword and it vanished, presumably to wherever it usually rested. "I will fulfill my duty as Goblin King and Keeper of the Gifts," he nodded, "for the freedom of the Underground." Not, he thought angrily, the Council. He gave a bow, not quite as low as before, and Sarah took that as her cue to rise as well and curtsy.

"So be it," Larimon responded icily. "We eagerly await the news of your triumph." Then he snapped his fingers and the pair vanished.

He sat slowly in his chair, feeling the other eyes of the Council upon him, and stared at the empty seats with contempt. "I want them tracked. Every step of the journey."

* * *

Everything went completely dark and Sarah stumbled. "Where are we?" she breathed, the corset now almost unbearable, even though she recognized the pressure of Jareth's arm about her waist. He was leading her steadily in one direction.

"Home," he said softly, and her skin prickled. There was a grinding sound and light formed the faint outline of a door. It swung open, into the night air of the Labyrinth.

They made it out and down the steps before Sarah paused, disentangling herself from Jareth, and leaned heavily against the wall. _Damn...dress..._ But she couldn't think about that now, there were issues that needed to be addressed.

The Goblin King folded his arms over his chest and mimicked her position on the wall with an intent stare. She wheeled back around, slamming a palm loudly on the stone to right her hurried motions, and squeaked, "Heir?"

His eyes only widened a little before the meaning of the word seemed to digest. "That."

"Yes, that!" Sarah huffed back. She was in no mood for games, just wanted this over with and out of the hateful corset. "And while you're at it," she paused to wheeze in a breath, "explain how I'm Fae."

He didn't even shift from his position on the wall, only let his gaze wonder over her until she was distinctly harried. "The Gift gave you immortality. I gave you power. It really isn't that hard to put together, Sarah."

She felt like a Frankenstein monster, sewn together with bits and pieces. At least the answer had been simplistic enough. "Heir?" she prompted again, placing her free hand over her ribs. They felt bruised.

Jareth watched the motion with a certain detachment, his mind too far away to think much of it. "You mean regarding young Toby." She nodded briefly. "It wouldn't have worked, as Larimon so brightly put it. Even though I intended to use the Gift on him, turn him immortal, and bestow a fair amount of magic as I have on you, he could never truly be my rightful heir." Sarah wilted against the wall a little in relief. "He would lack my blood in him-the blood of my ancestors, and could never have claimed the throne or right to the Gifts."

Good, she thought fuzzily. For some reason, what the High Chancellor had said left Sarah with the nagging thought that Toby might be in danger again. But no, he was safe, and normal... With that under control she could focus on the acute pain of her laces. This torture device was _nothing_ like the costumes in Vegas. Urgency for answers abandoned her with the pain, and she reached behind her to tear eagerly at her ties. Her fingers grabbed no loose ends so she spun, a little comically, to better reach something. _Anything._

Wordlessly Jareth reached out and pulled at the offending ribbon. It undid effortlessly in his hand and Sarah stiffened at the touch, then relaxed when her rib cage expanded. She sucked in a full, aching breath...God, the air was _good_...and let it out again before turning around. Somehow she couldn't meet his gaze.

Jareth let her rest for a moment. She hadn't even contemplated the other half of the issue, he thought wryly. Either she was avoiding it for later or too worried about her brother to care. Obstinate. It was fine with him...he wasn't sure how to answer that question. His lips turned up in the traces of a self-mocking smirk at her innocence, and what it was doing to him.

After a few moments of silence, and Jareth not about to offer anything, she looked up from the dead earth to give some sort of thanks. Maybe for _not_ changing Toby, or freeing her from a cage of silk, or something...but she scowled at his decidedly smug face. Words rolled off her tongue, newly freed with a rush of air that she could finally taste. "I believe you owe me an explanation." Or a hundred. She shouldn't have been surprised when his smug face acquired an equally smug grin.

"You're right. It is, after all, later." He moved so fast that she didn't have time to jump, and Sarah found Jareth's hands planted firmly on the wall, one to either side of her head.

"What are you doing?" she choked at his glittering smile.

He leaned closer, brushing her cheek with his, and whispered in her ear, "Explaining."

The temperature rose about twenty degrees in the cool atmosphere. She couldn't think, her only view being Jareth's tangle of fair hair. The stars overhead did give quite a bit of light to the night, but not nearly enough for her sake. She gasped when he trailed his nose along the line of her jaw. "How is _this_ explaining?" If he had tried this with her corset tied, she would be dead now from asphyxiation. In an attempt to stabilize her weak knees she reached out and grasped his shoulders tightly.

He chuckled darkly, sliding his gloved hands down the wall to hold her waist. "Watch."

The kiss he planted on her throat electrified her blood to boiling. Wind smacked at them from nowhere in the calm space, swirling up and around to form a mini twister. She shut her eyes to the heady sensation, his smooth lips, and the stars disappeared as the world dropped from beneath their feet.

"Oof!" Sarah landed with a soft thud. They seemed to be in an immense, sprawling library. Books covered every wall and many towering shelves besides, and floor-to-ceiling windows that reached to the second story were draped in heavy velvets. Various staircases wound up to the wrap-around balcony and large tables and chairs dotted the floor. Sarah was in one now, a giant red leather beast that was practically swallowing her. Jareth sat perched unperturbed on the more solid armrest.

"Do you see now?" His voice was perfectly matter of fact, not the searing sounds he had made moments before. She found it immensely irritating and narrowed her eyes.

"No. Not at all."

He sighed. "When I went Aboveground to find you, I could not just spirit you away. Magic, like wine, strengthens with age. I had to compel you to tap into your own store of magic for the transportation to take place. While you used it for the act, I channeled it to a place." Jareth tried not to think of her falling limp in his arms down a dark oubliette. He rose from his place on the armrest and walked away to a large fireplace. An inferno raged inside, making his lithe form no more than a shadow. "But I had to provoke the magic a bit. Stir it up."

"The wind..." Sarah muttered. "That was...magic?" Still she did not find his actions completely justified.

He shrugged gracefully, like a cat. "More or less a side effect of the actual magic."

She pulled her way out of the depths of the chair to sit more comfortably on the edge. "And the best you could come up with was a kiss?" Her tone was accusing, flustered, spot on her neck burning feverishly with the imprint of his lips.

The Goblin King leaned an arm on the mantelpiece and looked at her over a shoulder, obliviously displaying the play of lean muscles. "I thought you read all of the fairytales, Sarah," he laughed. "Wasn't it kisses that woke Snow White and Sleeping Beauty? I think it's reasonable that my kiss should wake your magic. Besides." He removed himself from the fireplace and took slow, deliberate steps back to her chair. She rose a little quickly, refusing to have him intimidate his way out of this one. "You did not seem to mind so much when you were kissing me back." They were only inches apart now, and Sarah hated her speeding pulse.

"I was scared witless and nearly unconscious," she shot back. It was a blow to admit her fear, but right now that didn't seem important. "No way did I understand what was going on." Play dumb...but she remembered how he tasted...

He advanced another step and whispered, "You're perfectly conscious now."

Sarah shook her head violently and maneuvered back so that the chair was between them. "This isn't the explanation I was even looking for! Tell me what the Council meant about a journey."

The strange light that had crept into his eyes faded away. Jareth flopped down into the empty seat, which didn't swallow _him_, and propped his booted heels on the table before it. Leisurely he unhooked the clasp to his cloak, letting it pool around him, and said, "You have probably grasped the concept now that Liuhath is the single sword of it's kind, and we, together, are the exclusive wielders. We must travel to this new rift in the north, and see it destroyed." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, suddenly feeling drained, and said no more. As if that settled things.

"What?!" He did not answer. "Jareth!" Lazily, reluctantly, he opened one eye and looked at her.

"I told you not to forgive me just yet." Then he closed his eye again.

Sarah gaped at him, but he seemed to believe the discussion over. "Wake up, Goblin King!" she hissed. This was starting to sound way too big for her to handle. "I want some answers!" She brought her palm down on his shoulder, not hard, but with enough force to jar him slightly.

His hand moved lightening fast and covered her own, refusing to relinquish it as she tugged. "Go to bed, Sarah. This can wait until tomorrow, and you'll need all the rest you can get." He released her then without ever opening his eyes.

Sarah stumbled back. "You can't just tell me to go to my room, Jareth," she snarled, riled by his indifferent calm, "like some petulant child."

He opened his eyes to that, and they flashed in her direction. "I will do whatever I see fit it in _my _home, and continue to treat you like a child while you insist on acting like one." In seconds he was out of the chair and before her again, moving with an amount of dangerous fluidity that was far past normal. "Now go to bed, or I'll take you myself." He flexed his fingers menacingly, claw-like. Sarah tried forcefully not to show how frightening he had turned in those few seconds, and crossed her arms.

Their staring contest did not last long before Jareth lost his patience. "Have it your way," he growled, then reached for her. Effortlessly he grabbed her around the waist, hoisted her up, and flung her over a shoulder. She didn't even have time to scream before he dumped her unceremoniously onto her tower room bed.

"You," she hissed, hair falling wildly in her eyes, silken skirts tangled around her ankles, back of the dress half undone, "are _infuriating._"

"Thank you, my dear," he smirked. "I'm afraid that precise quality is what gives me license to do this."

Jareth swooped down and barely finished his sentence before claiming her mouth. A sharp shock rocketed up her spine and her limbs melted, hot and numb. However he had kissed her before, this was _not_ it. There was a big difference, just like a clear discrepancy between doing something under the effects of alcohol, or without it. This kiss was possessive, and deep, and indulgent. He did it purely of his own volition, because he wanted to. Could. Sarah was too shocked to protest, especially flooded with the familiarity of a spiciness on his lips, like caramel and the ocean and woods and rain and cinnamon and deep red wine, she couldn't decide-

Just when her resolve had almost crumbled, when she was pulling out of her reverie enough to realize that she was starting to kiss him back, he dissolved into insubstantial, un-kissable, air. There was nothing left of him but the slight echo of his laugh. The wavering breeze that had picked up, stirring her hair and rustling the covers, dropped.

For a moment she blinked at the empty space with eyes that were too bright. Then her lips scowled, letting out a noise something rather like, "Gah!" She growled a bit more before reaching for a pillow, hurtling it at a wall, and watched as it hit with a satisfying thump and dropped to the ground. Then she flopped back onto the bed in a gesture that _was_ petulant and gave her ceiling a menacing glare.

Two could play at this game.


	7. Age's Garden

_Hello dear readers! I apologize profusely for the delay in posting, but this chapter is a bit longer...I hope it makes up for the absence._

_**Anonymous reviews are now enabled.** I didn't even know they were disabled...I can't believe that escaped me. But there you go, review to your heart's content! As always your comments fuel the fire-the more the merrier! Please enjoy chapter seven, in which we get some insight into what these two are thinking..._

_E. Jane_

* * *

VII

Age's Garden

It sniffed at the ground around the mausoleum. The air was tainted with magic here, something new, mingled with its master's. _Someone_ new, and strange. Dawn was breaking fast, casting long shadows of the scraggly trees over the earth, and a larger shape. Much larger. The crows refused to visit this area of the Labyrinth today for fear of being breakfast.

Tail whipping in silent agitation, it stretched the muscles on its back with longing. Its wings quivered, catching the first new rays of the day, glimmering pale green. Another snuff of its snout stirred the dirt into a large puff. Soon, soon it would be out of this prison, it would fly again-

* * *

Sarah woke up with a large amount of resentment toward the sun. She had wrestled her way out of the dress the night before and fallen asleep amidst downy-soft coverlets and pillows. Her exhausted body, and mind, weren't keen on relinquishing such comforts now that she was in a state to enjoy them.

A gentle_ tap tap _echoed from her door. She resisted the urge to bury her head beneath the pillows and called, "Come in!" Margaret could have popped in just as easily, but was too polite to do so. Sure that the call had been heard, the girl gave in to temptation and stuck her head under a cool pillow, hoping the maid wouldn't drag her out just yet.

* * *

Jareth had paced past her door quite a few times before knocking. Several goblins wandered by, but after one unfortunate creature had been thrown out of the window for staring too long...they mostly just rustled past as fast as possible.

He looked the picture of a sleepless night. Ridiculous things had kept him awake. This little, nagging thing in his chest that was annoyingly indecisive. On the one hand he felt an emotion that was disturbingly familiar with guilt. But that couldn't possibly be, because Goblin Kings did not harbor such petty feelings . There was no need for it-every action he had ever made in his long life was thoroughly legitimate. Or, he had thought so. This side of the argument demanded that, for what it was worth, he should apologize.

On the other hand was something less an emotion and more a...desire. Gods forbid he should associate that particular word with it. Last evening his impulsive decision had been tainted very faintly with his own appetite for something devilishly, and cleverly, hidden for much too long. Sarah Williams was not the little spoiled brat anymore. Headstrong and demanding, to be sure, but more conscious of herself. The things that had intrigued him long ago were still there...things that had tempted him into plotting and scheming for the benefit of his kingdom. But now she was the woman Jareth had always hoped she would grow into, and a glimpse was offered to him of what could have been. That spark in her manner was driving him wild for _something_. This side of the argument demanded that he return in the dead of night and kiss her senseless until he recovered whatever eluded him.

For the most part Jareth had settled on the decision to apologize. A staunch policy of his was to regret nothing, for what's said is said and done is done. Sarah, though, would be a terribly difficult person to live with if he did not attempt to mend the situation.

The switch in his brain automatically flipped to the other end of the spectrum when he opened her door. First he saw the tangle of black material on the floor, her discarded dress, and then the pale girl herself. She was sprawled face-first into the bed, hair a rumpled, curly mess. What startled him the most were her bare shoulders and the exposed length of her back. Apparently last evening had seen her disgusted with all dresses in general, including nightdresses.

There he was again, at a crossroads. Instincts told him to spring and trail his fingers over every inch of her he could reach. But something else, deeper down, noticed the way her foot peeked out from the covers, and how one arm was carelessly flung over the side of the bed. How she had twisted the sheets around her so severely it was like a cocoon. How the weak sunlight was making her glow.

So he padded his way to the bed, waved a hand over her still form, and then crossed to the window, face harboring a cold mask of indifference.

Sarah wriggled a little when something smooth slid over her body. Tantalizingly close to sleep again, she shifted upright in her messy bed groggily and looked down. Huh...she couldn't remember putting on a nightdress. Especially not this gorgeous, pale blue one with a lace-trimmed front. She shrugged. "Margaret, where-" Clumsily Sarah choked on her words as she turned to the rest of the room. Jareth was staring out the window, his back to her, hands clasped behind. She couldn't see how the muscles in his neck were corded, as if he clenched his jaw tightly, or how his eyes surveyed the land but did not see it. "What. Are _you_ doing in here?"

Oh, he was too tired for this. Not now. "You need some clothes."

"I..." she blinked. 'What?' her brain spluttered stupidly. No sarcasm? No quick remark? "Yes?" She struggled with the tangled blankets a moment before standing. There was still no reply, which was odd. Quietly she came to stand beside him at the window. Jareth's eyes were hooded against the rising glare, dark smudges stark against his skin. "Are you...alright?"

The Goblin King turned to her very slowly, seeming to notice her for the first time. Softly he crooked a finger under her chin. Sarah immediately became captivated by his crystalline eyes, shatters and slivers of color nonexistent Aboveground. They were deep, and liquid, and ageless orbs. It frightened her more than she would ever say.

For quite some time the two regarded each other, until Jareth quirked his mouth. "You may keep staring at me, if you like. Or you can pick something out to wear."

"I was not," she started hotly, wrenching her coloring cheeks away from him, "staring..." The sentence died as she turned. They had transported to a room, almost a hall, where racks and shelves were full of every type of clothing imaginable. At the far wall was a tiny dressing area with a settee and painted folding screen, a vanity covered with pots and jars and a large round mirror. Sarah sucked in her breath at the intricacy of some pieces, the rich colors, the decorations, the cuts-

"You may choose anything you wish. Margaret will relocate a few items to your personal wardrobe for convenience. Although," he added thoughtfully, "you will not be able to wear but one for today. Tomorrow sees us beginning our journey."

She plunged her hand into a random section. Fur. Looking more closely, she could differentiate between warmer and cooler pieces, casual(if any could be called that) and then splendidly elegant. Her fingers were currently wrapped around garments that were thick and heavy for winter. Did the Labyrinth have winter? Apparently. Only vaguely had she even heard Jareth mention the journey, so enraptured was she with these new findings. Another rack found her stroking smooth purple silk which was beaded delicately down the front. Everything she could see Sarah touched, as if trying to confirm the reality of it all. "You can't mean," she breathed, "that I can wear these?" Laces spilled over cuffs, diamonds and precious stones adorned bodices and necklines, jewelry winked happily from a nearby rack, shoes covered the floor.

"Why not? They are yours."

Her fingers halted over red brocade, hesitating, and Sarah turned around. Jareth was inspecting a light gold dress with particular care. "What?" The breathy voice did not seem to belong to her.

Gently he took the material between his fingers, rubbing experimentally. But that was ridiculous-Jareth was wearing his gloves. "These are-were-emergency garments for guests. But they are rather infrequent. New clothes can be made to your tastes...in the meantime this is all I can offer."

Sarah dropped onto the settee and stared to him at the opposite end of the room as if through a lively colored tunnel. For a moment she swivelled her head in utter bewilderment. Years ago she had fantasized about a room like this, but certainly not nearly as grand, full of fairytale clothes. Everything was precisely the kind of thing her imagination had painted over the simple skirts she wore to the park, turning a plain costume into the most romantic of apparel, or sometimes her lady-knight attire. Even _that _was residing in a corner of this room. It was deliciously like someone had rummaged around in her head and extracted only the fairest of things, making them solid. "But..." Jareth continued to idly pick at the gold dress. How on earth could anything ever equal this? How could she be so selfish as to ask for more? "They're perfect!"

She blinked and his posture was suddenly more erect. "I am infinitely glade you approve. Shall I send Margaret up?"

"Yes, I...she's going to have to help me pick!" she replied weakly, leaning back onto an armrest. It was the most horrifying, wonderful decision nightmare Sarah had ever encountered.

Laughter rose the left corner of the Goblin King's lips. He twisted his fingers and a crystal materialized. "Margaret."

A startled image of the woman appeared. "Your majesty?" Sarah imagined a sudden call via crystal would frighten anyone.

"Sarah requires your assistance. She will be in the closet upstairs." The bubble burst without waiting for a reply. Only then did Jareth turn to her. "I have several matters to attend to today," he said, and Sarah pulled her attention away from a choker of perfect pearls, "but I would appreciate a little of your time before dinner."

She was shocked. It almost sounded like he was asking her permission. Almost a 'please.' And, besides that, his tone was a smidgen apologetic. With a bang it hit Sarah that he could have just as easily thrown her some rags to wear and sent her to the kitchens until she was needed. The Council had only demanded she stay here, not be treated as an equal. "Of course."

Jareth nodded once and paused, perhaps to say something more, but disappeared instead, leaving her alone with a sea of royal clothes.

Sarah stood nervously and surveyed as many different items as possible. Carefully she pulled things out from the racks, then replaced them again.

Everything was women's clothes. A woman with a tiny waist, average length of leg, delicate shoulders. The measurements never varied. She slipped on one shoe, a high heel with a buckle.

Perfect.

With dawning awareness she went to a bureau and opened a drawer to find an array of undergarments. They were tasteful and brand-new looking on top, folded and placed just so. Sarah could not bear to delve farther into the deep drawer, in case...other pieces were beneath.

No way was this a guest closet. Where were the clothes for men and children? The large women who indulged in too many splendid castle meals? Something ugly should have caught her eye, but nothing did.

Finally she wandered over to the spot Jareth had been standing moments before. A faceless mannequin was wearing the dress. It was a lavish cream color stitched with patterns of gold thread. Flowers mingled with dizzying spirals and flourishes, and when she stroked it the feeling was like a petal. Someone must have sewn everything by hand...not even magic could work something so complex, could it? The neckline was squared and sleeves fell from the shoulders with slits up to the elbows that revealed pure gold. The skirt was long and full, but not cumbersome, and retained several layers of fabric.

No one had ever worn that dress. It had waited for her, she was sure of it. And it was doubtful anyone would so much as touch it in the future. This was the only dress not on the rack-it was in the open, on a tantalizing display.

Something, buried down in her gut, remembered the way Jareth had smoothed the fabric. And couldn't look at her while he did.

* * *

The Goblin King draped an elegant leg over the side of his throne. He stared moodily at the ceiling and tried to block out the noise of the goblins wreaking havoc, something he had not missed during the evacuation. The ceiling did not offer anything in the way of consolation except the passage of an occasional spit ball or string of sausages.

Sarah was too smart. She was going to figure out who the garments really belonged to and assume just how long they had been there. He had come dangerously close to telling her himself...but why ruin the moment of pure bliss on her face? She would only have refused them and spat at him, damn it all-

Jareth grabbed a random goblin, who had strayed a little too near to the throne, and tossed him into a drunken group. They were momentarily confused by its flailing arms, which sent them tumbling to the ground, but then broke out in raucous laughter and began to brawl good-naturedly. A horde of others congregated to watch, highly amused. Some even tossed themselves in for good measure.

He couldn't win, Jareth decided sourly. The only kisses they'd shared were short, stolen, and unrequited. Any contact was out of necessity or desperation. It shouldn't trouble him so much, really. Perhaps it was merely the fact that every other woman he had barely spared a glance for wanted to lavish him with affection. Not that he had looked at any other woman for six years, or thirteen, depending which world you were in... But no. Jareth was not fooling anybody, least of all himself. The closet was more than enough proof of that.

A passing chicken squawked loudly when a larger goblin attempted to straddle and rein it with a piece of string. The bird collapsed under the weight unpleasantly.

Jareth ground his teeth and let his head fall limp over the other armrest. The chaotic view of his disastrously embarrassing throne room was no better upside down. Why had his ancestor been fascinated with goblins, of all things? He couldn't have picked something intelligent, or even remotely quiet. Goblins probably could not even spell 'quiet.' And for the love of the Underground-_why_ did they swarm to his throne room? At least the ale helped to pacify their blundering actions slightly.

There was work to do. Arrangements for the impending journey, besides the regular duties. Inspections of the city and Labyrinth after the citizens had returned. Paperwork, probably. But the thought of Sarah, donning one of her outfits, finally, drove the motivation from his mind.

Furthermore, their little before-dinner discussion might cause her to never speak again.

He grimaced when a goblin, wearing a crooked helmet adorned with horns, flew through the air inches from his face. And missed. What a pity.

* * *

It was the kind of dress you never wanted to take off. She would have slept in it, bathed in it, lived in it. One, she looked amazing. It fairly transformed her body from flesh into an enticing dream. Two, it was a million times more comfortable than the devil dress from the previous evening. No corset was involved, thank the good Lord. Instead buttons traveled the length of her spine. Three...

The garment was tailored to her every whim. Sarah was not shocked any longer-she was far beyond shock, into a dull kind of numb acceptance. You could have poured the dress on, and it wouldn't have fit better. She wasn't sure how he had done it-magic, most likely-but she was willing to bet the other clothes were the same.

Some part of her was touched that he had obviously devoted so much time and energy into all of these things. For her. It had to be, there was no other logical explanation. She couldn't find a single flaw in _anything_, though she had tried. But another part of her was disgusted. He had been arrogant enough to assume her beaten, finished. And he had already prepared things for her stay.

Cocky bastard.

What would he have done with her, had she lost? Sarah brushed the dusky purple fabric, so dark it was nearly black, over her hips lightly. Such finery would not have suited an oubliette. Toby...would have been his heir. And her? His pet? Certainly nothing more than a pretty accessory for his arm, something to show off. A conquest to flaunt in the faces of other nobles.

Margaret was fixing her hair into an elaborate upsweep in front of the vanity. Sarah had wanted to try the gold dress on, just to see how it looked, but the maid had paled and insisted that another would be far prettier. It was gorgeous, to be sure-a plunging neckline of the rich plum fabric sharpened the paleness of her skin and caused her eyes to twinkle. The off-shoulder bit was a little more risque than she would have thought royal clothes to be, but it suited her, as did the pleated skirt.

The realization knifed her as Margaret was placing a pin in her hair. Last night, Larimon had said it would not have worked. Toby could never have become Jareth's rightful heir. Then she...

'I was his insurance,' Sarah thought. 'In case his plan failed...I could produce little legitimate Goblin Kings-'

The maid cried in surprise as Sarah jumped up from the small chair. "Wait! Sarah, I'm not finished!" The girl had bunched the skirt in her hands and was dashing for the only door. Margaret's face fell, a few last pins in her fingers. "No! Don't go in-"

Sarah threw the door wide and prepared to race in the first direction she thought would lead her to Jareth. But there was no corridor beyond the closet.

There was a room.

A room as large as three or four of her own, with twenty-foot ceilings. Floor-to-ceiling doors of sparkling glass were set in one wall that opened onto a wrapping balcony, blue sky piled with fluffy clouds floating through, sunlight pouring in. There was an absurdly enormous bed piled with white silken sheets and red drapes tied back to bedposts. It lounged in sinful decadence on a raised part of the floor, which was shiny wood strewn with lush rugs. The walls were covered in sculpted moldings, faint swirling designs of gold and silver paint, and ornaments of rarity and beauty.

She walked to the center of the room and spun in place, moving away from Margaret so that she would not be transported. Not yet. Farther back she could see the closet she had sprung from, and it's twin right next to it.

The doors were a warm oak carved with rich, handsome designs. On the one she had fled was a raven over a sun with the rays extending to the edges. The raven's eyes were intelligent, flickering emerald chips. The other, the raven's partner, was an owl set over the moon. An owl with sapphire eyes.

His and Hers closets.

Margaret looked mortified. She had caught the king's hidden meaning when he referred to the 'upstairs closet' rather that his personal chambers. Obviously he had not wanted the girl to know quite yet. Too late, she thought sadly, watching Sarah take it all in.

"Oh...my God." She would have sat there in the floor if Margaret had not chose that moment to step up and lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Sarah? Are you alright?"

Blank eyes turned to the maid. Her mouth was dry. "No." But she was already moving toward the second door. 'Let this be a mistake, let me be wrong about everything-'

With a yank the owl's door pulled open. Sarah ignored the reproving look it's jeweled eyes seemed to send her. She needed proof, real proof that this was true, and there was certainly an eyeful of it before her.

Dazzling coats, breeches, boots, shirts were arranged in a similar fashion to hers. Magnificent silks and leather-

Sarah shut the door with a snap once her gaze found the jacket encrusted with twinkling diamonds of blue. Her heart was in an uncomfortable position, stuck in her throat, and she rounded on the maid. "Out."

Margaret blinked back the hurt expression on her face. "What?"

"I need _out_ of here! Take me...to him. _Now_." The reply was clenched tight, barely audible with Sarah's stiff jaw. Her hands were balled to hidden fists in her skirt.

"I...alright," she sighed. There was no way to comfort the poor girl now, it seemed. She hoped her king was ready for a confrontation of devastating proportions.

* * *

The crystal rolled over his knuckles, around his wrist, into his palm, and up to his fingertips. Inside the image wasn't very promising. Not at all.

"Brock, are you certain?" Jareth's brow was creased.

"Yes, your majesty. Reports have been pouring in to us-that is the location of the new vein."

Jareth swore a handful of colorful Underground expletives before letting the image of the snow-covered mountains burst in his hand. "Right in the Shadowed Pass. Luck would have it that way," he groused.

Both stared dejectedly at the throne room, empty for a few precious moments. The goblins had scattered after their king gave them a monstrous bog threatening. They would return within the hour.

"Perhaps an inspection of the Labyrinth is in order," Jareth continued when there was no reply from Brock. "See to things, will you?"

A nod from his general was all he needed before striding to the window. Seconds after a snowy owl had dropped from the sill, diving straight for the ground, the doors to the throne room burst open and Sarah crashed inside, yelling, "Where is he?" A sweep of the room showed no sign of the king, so she turned to a surprised Brock and demanded, "Where's the Goblin King? I need to give him a piece of my-"

Margaret bustled in right after looking strained. She shot him an apologetic look before turning to the girl. "Please, Sarah, calm down!"

"He isn't here," Brock offered. Sarah's questioning look and mouth, which was opening to a wide and angry hole, prompted him to point a finger to the window. "The king has gone to inspect the Labyrinth and see that all citizens are satisfied with their dwellings."

The general and maid gave looks of alarm as Sarah, skirts in hand, flew from the room. Jareth was not going to get away from her that easily, ho, no. If she had to solve the Labyrinth again she would, just to strangle him-

Down a spiraling staircase she thundered, through the entrance hall and to the heavy metal doors. They opened easily at her touch and the iron chains rattled. A few steps saw the girl at the base of the castle, like a looming mountain, with the Goblin City at its feet. Just like last time the streets were empty and deserted. But it was doubtful the houses were vacant-Sarah thought she caught a few twinkling eyes at darkened windows as she ran past.

Navigating between sloping houses and narrow alleys, the doors to the Labyrinth sprang up before her. Relieved at having found them at all, Sarah ran and pushed with all her might. They didn't budge.

"Hello?" she tried, not really sure who she was talking to. "Yes-I need to get into the Labyrinth. Could you open?" After a few moments of nothing Sarah tried the doors a second time. Solid. "I am Sarah Williams, your champion. Allow me entrance so that I may find who I seek." Now her voice was impatient and commanding. Jareth seemed to have damaged her nerves with the strain of the last few days, yesterday night and this morning in particular.

Creaky and dusty, the doors began to swing open into the Labyrinth while crumbles of old dirt fell away. And where Sarah had expected a junkyard, piles and piles of discarded dreams, rubbish, and trash, there was only the hedge maze.

"What? This can't be right!" Not exactly sure she had the strength, but unwilling to succumb to the Labyrinth's tricks, Sarah pulled on the edges of the door. Seeming to sense her motions they swung closed again with a snap. "Er...that was the Labyrinth, yes..." This idea was just a tad stupid. But the maze switched and changed, didn't it? "Could you show me the part of the Labyrinth that the Goblin King is currently in? Please?" she added for good measure.

This time the doors swung open easily without any effort from Sarah. And beyond was an area of the Labyrinth that she herself had never traversed. She regretted that fact immediately, because before her was not the stone maze, the fiery forest, or even the endless corridor. It was a garden made completely of red flowers. Some were large and almost leafy, others had tight curling feelers and exotic spikes. Cherry, scarlet, ruby, burgundy, cardinal, maroon, magenta, vermillion. They were all here. Every red imaginable, and some more extravagant than thought. The only item that kept her eyes from swimming with the vivid colors was smack in the middle of the place.

A sundial of pure white marble stood tall and erect. It only cast a small shadow, but that was because the sun was climbing higher and higher into the sky. Carefully she approached and dared a look at the face. Thirteen numerals surrounded the smooth circle, and a sliver of a shadow cast to show the time. The piece was certainly beautiful in simplicity, and worthy of study, but Sarah had not forgotten her anger. Where was Jareth?

Looking quickly around the small enclosure, walls and ground alike covered with the red flowers, save the stone path, she found a small opening in one corner. Quickly she bunched her skirts up and moved that way.

Sarah blinked fiercely to adjust her eyes to the new color. Everywhere were blues, in as many varying shapes as the red. Another sundial perched in the center here, and she stepped up to read it. Strange...this one only had seven numerals. Ah, that must be for days of the week. But how could the sun measure that? Quizzically she looked to the sky, but it did not offer her any answers. So she shrugged and found the next opening in the wall.

Orange, yellow, purple...twenty minutes later Sarah was hopelessly lost and confused. Every different part of the garden contained a distinct color and sundial. But every sundial was different. One seemed to be for the seasons, another for months of the year, another still the actual year...each one, save the first from the place of red flowers, seemed amazingly impossible. It kept a few self-reminders for Sarah to jolt herself away from the puzzle and continue her search.

An hour into the garden-maze she was tired, hot, and her hair had fallen from the pins, but there was a _blessed_ bench to sit on...

With a huff Sarah situated herself on the bench in the green portion of the garden. Here everything simply looked leafy, although some plants actually were flowers. Her dark dress stood out in deep contrast to the strange environment. Bleakly she wondered if this particular trial of the Labyrinth was endless. Nothing seemed to live here, except for the flowers, and they weren't much help when it came to asking for directions. Maybe she could call Jareth...should she have done that in the first place, at the castle? No. This showdown needed a little privacy, away from Margaret and Brock, away from the impending surge of drunken goblins.

She shook her head at his audacity. It all made a sick sort of sense now. The closet had been the breaking point for sure, making it very clear his intentions six years earlier were quite binding and absolute. And that _dress_...was no ordinary dress. The garment was unmistakably a wedding gown. Sarah shivered at the thought of being married to the Goblin King at fifteen. Just because he had been the epitome of her girlish fantasies did not make it right. To wake up to him every morning, merely a child, would have horrified her...she had only been breaking into womanhood then.

What about now, when she _was_a woman? A very young one, at twenty-one, but still. Jareth was dangerously beautiful, elegant, and could send shivers down her spine with a single look. It had not escaped Sarah what kind of effect his nearness had on her, and she on him. But perhaps that was just the fact of nature? Boy meets girl. Instincts take over to ensure the continuance of life. Right?

Then why had no other man tasted as spicy and electric as Jareth?

Ok, _not_ the issue at hand.

She really, really hated to think that he would have made such advances when she was so young. Only days before he had been quite tender. _'Don't I sound real? Don't I feel real?'_And Billy Stagton would have committed terrible acts without his intervention. He had saved her from the darkness, albeit with an immortal twist, and nearly wrung himself for it. So why did he feel the need to corner her with kisses on the sly? Well...perhaps that was simply Jareth. The most pressing question, really, was why her? Why Sarah and Toby Williams? Any other mortal children would have done, and there had been quite a few to lose to his Labyrinth if she was the only Champion.

_Thump_.

Sarah blinked up from her feet and turned to the opening, where gold and silver flowers peeked through. The ground had just shook.

_Thump. Thump. Wack!_

She sprang from the bench and ducked behind a taller bush. Something, something huge, had just struck the wall near the opening. It had quivered and rustled and bent quite ominously. There was colossal trouble just behind it. Her hiding place was more or less cramped and dirty, but surely the dress could be washed. She hoped so... Sarah could kill herself for ruining such a piece of artwork. As much as she was confused and angry with Jareth, the dresses themselves had not done anything wrong.

It _would_be just her luck for Jareth to walk in at that exact moment from the purple section of the garden and pass the bush without noticing her. He didn't seem to have heard the thumping or wacking noises at all, but instincts told her that it was wrong to just let him walk toward danger. She_ should_ have...for what Sarah had discovered that morning, something could swallow him alive for all she cared. But she was a reflexive guardian at all times-saving kittens in the gutter, herding kids out of the street. So she grabbed a fistful of his leather coattails as the king sauntered by, gave a yank, and sent him tumbling down with her behind the bush.

His almighty exclamation of surprise was put to an abrupt halt when Sarah smacked a hand over his mouth. Jareth tumbled into her slightly, only just catching himself with a hand planted behind her, and let his mismatched eyes go slightly narrow. Sarah shook her head in warning and pointed to the wall.

_Thump thump wack thump_.

Ignoring her desperate soundless pleas for evacuation, Jareth let his eyes widen at her figure. Of all the dresses she could have picked, this one was quite daring. This girl was begging to play with fire, teasing this strange hunger in him... If it wasn't for the fact that he had started kissing her palm, Sarah would have let the noise distract her thoroughly and continued with her waving motions toward the exit.

But then his mouth started...Oh my God...

Her sharp inhalation of breath, hissed through her teeth, sent the feel of his lips smirking upward, and Sarah's body seemed to have frozen solid. A breeze had picked up, restrained to the area immediately around them. Suddenly it was very impossible for her to simply jerk away-

The largest _thump _yet sent the ground rolling beneath them, and Jareth, who was only braced precariously on one hand, tumbled into poor immobile Sarah. A dull thud told her that the force of his body had sent her falling back onto the ground where her head met dirt. The slithering noise, like scales sliding over rocks and leaves, alerted them to movement just around the bush. To Sarah's horror, Jareth didn't seem troubled by the sound at all. He was admiring the view from where his chin was resting comfortably on her stomach, and said far too loudly, "My dear, how kind of you to come looking for me. But wouldn't you like to continue in a more..." His gaze swept around to the shrubbery. "...enclosed space?"

Voice seeming to have momentarily abandoned her, Sarah scowled and whapped Jareth upside the head.

He winced, but the hurt look was not at all convincing when coupled with the dazzling grin. "You're right, of course." Contentedly he settled his chin back onto her stomach. "Here is just fine."

Their only concealment was ripped up forcibly and sent a shower of dirt raining around them. Sarah yelled and clawed the clumps from her eyes, spitting and sneezing clods of dirt, before being able to see properly.

And then she screamed.

"Jareth! Jareth, a...a..." Pointing stupidly up with one hand and clutching a handful of Jareth's hair with the other, she took in the beast looming above them, munching happily on the bush.

"Easy, love," he reprimanded, prying her hand out of his hair and sitting up. Gently he took her shaking finger, still pointed accusingly heavenward, and pulled her up to sit beside him. "It's all very good and well to be shocked, Sarah, but some of them _are_ omnivores."

She turned to him with the most disbelieving look he had ever received. "That's not...a _dragon_, Jareth?!" Hysterically she grabbed the leather lapels of his coat and gave him a shake. "A dragon!" Then she seemed to remember that the object of the conversation was peering down at them.

"I had hoped," he sighed, "to reveal this little piece of information before dinner, but my plans have been thwarted. As usual." Effortlessly he rose and all the dirt seemed to drop away from his person. Quietly he pulled Sarah up, rested his hands on her shoulders as a hindrance to escape, and spun her to face the dragon.

The smallest "eep" escaped her as the beast lowered his massive head. The large golden eyes, slitted pupils eerily shifting, surveyed the length of her critically. A snuff from his snout sent her recoiling back into Jareth. "Goblin King..."

"He's perfectly tame," he boasted. "So tame, in fact, that he roams the Labyrinth at will. Some magic binds him to the land so that he does not fly away, of course."

"Yeah, sure," Sarah mumbled. "Omnivore...it eats plants _and_ animals?"

"Sarah," Jareth chided in her ear. "Not afraid, are you?"

Forgetting the monster towering over them, she recalled what had gotten her lost here in the first place. "I most certainly am not afraid," she hissed, wrenching her shoulders free of his hands and stepping away. It was good, though, that the pull sent her away from both Jareth and the dragon. "What I am is -" Involuntarily she choked as the dragon snaked its graceful neck in her direction, curiously tilting its head her way. The word "livid" never reached his ears. Strange how almost any emotions concerning the Goblin King-confusion, annoyance, hurt, desperation-all ended up coming out as anger.

"Go on," he nodded to the beast. "I believe he wants a bit of your attention."

"Attention?" Sarah squeaked, stiffening. "Jareth, he's looking at me like I'm a very tasty snack..."

The Goblin King shook his head and came to stand beside the dragon. The animal was so large, dwarfing them completely, that he looked like a child at its claws. But he smoothed one gloved hand over its green neck easily, just as if he were petting a horse. Sarah took a moment to study the creature while it was occupied with Jareth. Really, it was magnificent with the ridged back and whipping tail. Every part of it was sleek and deadly, the sun shining all of the scales to a reflective new-leaf green. And almost hidden, so neatly were they tucked, was a pair of shimmering wings. He almost blended into his surroundings like a chameleon.

Captivated, Sarah wanted nothing more than to stroke the beast as Jareth was. He just looked so incredibly _fierce_, though...she was willing to bet on numerous rows of spiked teeth in the jaw.

Jareth looked to her again and noted her intrigued, if wary, stare. He removed himself from the dragon and beckoned her over. "I won't let him hurt you," he tried in his softest voice, coming to stand behind her again when she refused to move. "You helped me drive a sword through the debris of Hell...surely a dragon is a little thing?" The chuckle was what did it, he thought, as Sarah turned to give him her deadliest stare.

"Surely."

Carefully, slow and steady, she reached forward a few fingers and smoothed several green scales. A noise erupted from the dragon's throat and she jerked her hand away.

"No," Jareth laughed, capturing her hand, "he is not growling at you. Watch." Then he guided her palm back over the scales with his own fingers. "He's purring at you."

Sarah blinked rapidly when she felt the vibrations shiver through her skin. "They can purr?" The look she gave him was pure amazement. But Jareth was absorbed with the picture of Sarah's hand under his own, stroking the beast.

"Among other things." He blinked a few times himself before pressing her hand more firmly to the dragon and removing his own. "Perhaps it is a good thing for you to become acquainted before tomorrow."

"That's right," she thought aloud. "We have to leave tomorrow. Don't worry," Sarah said, speaking directly to the dragon, "I'll make regular visits afterward, alright? It might be nice, having a big tough guy like you around." That thought made her laugh a little. Maybe every time Jareth did something to piss her off...

A grunt made her turn back to the Goblin King. He was frowning rather angrily in her direction. "I would have thought one capable guardian to be enough, especially when _I_ can perform magic."

Wrinkling her forehead, Sarah asked, "What?"

"But I do not think you understand. This creature is to be our mode of transportation on the journey," he continued, waving his hand at the beast.

"_What_?" she repeated louder. "You want me to ride a dragon?" Her gaze flickered uncertainly between the two. "Why?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "What did you expect? Horses? We need to reach the new rift, and fast." Sarah thought she could detect a certain amount of stiffness as he circled her and the dragon. "Speaking of preparations for the journey...it seems some weaponry is in order."

Sliding her hand from the dragon, she walked around to its other side to see him examining a wicked green flower. It was similar to a flytrap. "What sort of weapons?"

A small smile lit up Jareth's eyes as he turned back to Sarah, letting his gaze travel the length of her body, then halt at her sharp emerald eyes. "The cruelest kind."


	8. Turnabout

_I received some really excellent feedback from the last chapter, so I've worked my tail off to get this one out to you as quickly as possible. And, the next chapter is already in the works. Hoorah! It does my heart good to hear how well you all like this...especially because I enjoy writing for you. So send me more reviews to make me feel all fuzzy inside!_

_E. Jane_

* * *

VIII

Turnabout

Larimon understood that the looking pool was completely illegal. To breach the privacy of the Underground's citizens was conniving and deceitful, an unfitting crime to his station.

But his cousin could play with his pretty little crystals all he wanted, couldn't he? And the High Chancellor was well aware that a few select members of Jareth's realm had been keeping tabs on the mortal girl via mirror. Why not him? The task at hand, his plot to forever change this world, was far more important than his cousin's childish desires.

The pool itself was nothing more than a smooth hole of unwavering water, large as a window, set into the floor of a small room. All the other members of the council knew of its existence, but he was the only one deemed worthy to use it. Or perhaps foolish enough. As of now the image inside was not that of Larimon, but a stormy tumble of clouds.

"Master," he said reverently, lowering his head, "the girl is indeed Fae. She and the Goblin King have accepted their duty to bind the new vein."

"Very good," another voice answered. It was silky and coaxing, but chilled with the icy hint of something sinister. "I can assume then that progress has been made for the other locations?"

Larimon kept his eyes lowered to the floor but nodded. "Yes, master. Several other potential sites for rifts have been found by my armies, all corresponding to a different kingdom. At spots where they are most vulnerable. I...I believe the Goblin King might suspect-"

"That matters very little," the voice cut in. The silvery tone was replaced with impatience. "During their journey we shall eliminate any hindrances. Both he and the Labyrinth's Champion shall no longer plague our plans."

"Of course, of course," he nodded back. "How best to...my master, how do you suggest..."

The clouds swirled pensively. "They have shown great strength and determination where sheer force is concerned. But personal demons...that is another matter entirely. Still," the voice turned thoughtful, "it might be beneficial for them to encounter different angles of agony. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," Larimon blinked, not entirely sure that he did. Personal demons? Surely it wouldn't take more than a few of his own men, already waiting outside the Labyrinth gates to track them, for the two to be brought to an end.

"Do not lie to me, Larimon," the voice boomed. The High Chancellor cringed. "I have promised you great things, but your rewards demand cooperation. Weapons and poison may finish them off, but not until their resolve has weakened inwardly. Take them down from the inside first. Do not give them the chance to acquire any allies-not even each other."

Shakily Larimon bowed a little lower. "Your wish is my command, master." When he looked up the water was a normal pool again.

Surely he could accomplish that small task. Drive a wedge between the two of them. He snorted, thinking...their past was a tender spot to provoke. Yes, he thought, smile curving his lips, the girl was a damnable weakness of his cousin's. Sarah, though...that would be harder. Much harder. Hmm...

The High Chancellor turned back to the pool. "Show me the Goblin King." Smugly he watched the waters swirl and reveal a picture to him. Larimon prided himself on the fact that his images were much more clear and less distorted than that of Jareth's-any little gain he had over his cousin was a fact worth crowing about. It always had been.

* * *

Jareth was leading them out of the garden-maze of flowers. Or, Sarah hoped he was leading them out. Mostly she was just following behind him as he walked.

"Won't the dragon eat more bushes if we just leave him there?" she wondered aloud.

"No," Jareth said stiffly. "Perhaps." A long pause. "Probably." Then he strutted around a corner and Sarah's eyes were assaulted with a myriad of colors. This new place seemed to be the culmination of every color in the spectrum, of every shade and hue ever imagined. It burned her retinas slightly. But more aggravating than that was Jareth's clipped tone.

"What," she squinted, trying to find another door, "is your problem?" His mercurial moods were starting to get to her.

Jareth sprang up from nowhere right at her shoulder, causing her to jump slightly. It did help to look into his face and use it as a distraction from the rainbow around them. "My problem?" he frowned. "You are the one who seems to have a problem with me, my dear. It is obvious that I am inadequate protection for you."

Sarah lowered her eyes to the ground when he moved off again. A few rapid blinks set her right and she could follow. "You aren't serious," she managed after a moment. "You're being all unreasonable because I gave a compliment to our 'mode of transportation,' is that it?" A funny feeling slammed into her gut before she stopped dead in the doorway. Here the flowers were all black. Stems, leaves, everything seemed to be a living shadow swaying in the breeze. Jareth had stopped with his back to her in the center, beside the marble sundial. "You...were jealous?"

His shoulders stiffened visibly before he disappeared and reappeared again directly in front of her. "Why," the king drawled, "would I ever be jealous of one of my subjects?" Mismatched eyes flashed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "That notion is ridiculous."

Something in his face didn't quite convince her. In a very solid imitation, she crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. "Goblin King, I do not believe you."

Jareth blinked once before growling softly and leaning closer. "Believe it." She did not sway from her stance as he had hoped she would. "Now come along-those weapons are waiting for us." Turning on his heel smartly, he fairly marched his way through the next door.

She saw right through him every time, which was unnerving enough, he mused as they crossed into the white section of the maze. But to actually confront him about it...no one else would have dared. Of course he was bloody jealous. Sarah would barely even allow his touch, but was willing to put all her faith in a dumb beast? It had been the same way with the dwarf, and the knight, and the monster. He hated them all for claiming her attentions so easily. Higgle, or Haggle, or Hedgewart...had even been kissed by her. Willingly. His blood boiled at the thought of it.

Deciding to let it drop, Sarah followed Jareth with the smallest of smiles. The mighty Goblin King felt emotions such as jealousy, then. Well, well, well. That was new. A crack, perhaps, in his stony mask of arrogance? She was sorely tempted to try it out...just a little...after all, he deserved some torment, especially after what she had learned that morning.

"His strength was overwhelming," she mused, almost to herself, though she was sure Jareth could hear. "And any trouble we encounter can simply be eaten, or barbecued-"

Sarah gasped as Jareth spun and pinned her to a wall of white flowers. The hands on her waist were tight and insistent, and he made a point of looming over her small frame. "Listen to me, little girl," he hissed. "Your dragon may have more brute strength, but we could encounter obstacles on this journey that require intellect that far surpasses his. Of course," he smirked, "if you wish, I will stand by and watch while said obstacles drag you to the pits of Hell. Is that what you want?"

Scowling, she pushed on his arms. "Intellect my ass! If you had an ounce of brains," she growled, stabbing a finger in his chest, "you would have been smart enough to keep me out of that closet."

Jareth's face fell and darkened rapidly. His eyes...something happened in them that made Sarah cringe on the inside. "Ah." The tone he spoke with was clipped again, and his hands tightened even more on her waist.

"Or," Sarah plunged on, scared witless that he wasn't yelling yet, "did you think I wouldn't figure it out? That I didn't have...the intellect?"

He stepped away so forcefully that she was actually pushed farther into the wall of flowers. "That's just it, isn't it?" Jareth whispered. "I thought you _did_ have the intellect. The strong will, the dreams, the persistence. And look where it got you."

Speechless, confused, Sarah stared blankly at the Goblin King. He was regarding her with a mixture of regret and sadness, things foreign to his face. "What are you talking about?"

Ignoring her, Jareth continued through the next door. Sarah watched him go for a moment before running after. The sight that greeted her eyes was a wonderful relief-the gates to the Goblin City. Jareth stood leaning against them, examining a white rose that he had plucked from the wall of flowers. "Does it really matter?"

Exasperated, she swished her way to his side. He would not meet her gaze, but twirled the flower idly between his fingers. "Yes, it matters. Everything matters!" Sarah sighed, looking heavenward. "Why is it so hard for you?"

Jareth whipped his head to look at her, stilling his motions with the rose. "I do not understand, Sarah." Blue mismatched eyes slitted at her.

No, she was not letting this go without a fight. Not ever again. "To admit that you were wrong."

Straightening from his slouch against the wall, using his height as some sort of male advantage, he gave her an icy look. "I was not wrong."

"Yes," she almost cried, "you were! Jareth, I was fifteen! Toby..." Sarah shook her head in disbelief. "Just a baby. How could kidnapping two innocent children be alright?"

Anger blossomed in his face. "As I recall, no kidnapping was involved. You wished Toby away to me, Sarah. And I offered you your dreams. In no way did I ever force you to accept them."

"I..." That stopped her for a moment. So she _had _deliberately wished her brother away and refused the Goblin King. He had never come after her, not until the other night. "But," Sarah floundered for a comeback, "you were going to drag me headfirst into a marriage! And..." He rose an eyebrow as she trailed off. "I saw the bedroom, Jareth," she continued in a scared whisper. "You would do that to me at fifteen?"

A toss of his hand sent the white rose spiraling to a soft crash on the ground. Discarded. "Never." Eyes hard, face drawn, he looked like she had just driven a stake through his heart. "Bed a child? How could you ever think something so wretched of me?"

Sarah had no answer for that. "But...what would have happened to me?"

For the first time his resolve faltered a little. Jareth turned to the rose, laying with a few lose petals scattered around it. "I had hoped that perhaps one day you could come to me on your own. As a woman worthy to rule at my side. Out of all the dreams I had ever seen, yours were the most beautiful and innocent of any child." Sarah felt her veins liquefying inside. "You must understand, Sarah, that there is no heir to take my place. I only felt it appropriate that, should my plan with your brother fail, you be the one to mother a legacy." He drew a tired gloved hand over his eyes and still ignored her piercing gaze.

"You never expected me to refuse, did you?" she whispered. His hand halted. "Otherwise nothing would have been prepared for me."

"No," he mumbled, finally turning to look in her direction. "I would never have taken such a great risk by offering you your dreams otherwise. But you denied me and all I had to offer, shunning a little part of your soul. It turned your life into a living nightmare."

She remembered failing life, utterly and completely lost to the world at such a young age. Falling down into the oubliette of self-doubt and not being able to claw her way out again.

"After your little adventure," Jareth continued, "I decided the plan was a lost cause. Rather than drag you back into the Labyrinth's mess unwillingly, I decided to let you have the life you wanted. Even when the rift appeared, and you were needed to bind it, I attempted to stabilize the situation myself."

"It didn't work. You still had to come for me," Sarah finished for him. "Because you had already given me a part of your power." With a small amount of awe she slouched against the wall herself and shook her head. "This is so messed up."

The faintest sad smile curved Jareth's lips at her declaration. "Indeed." He tilted his head and rested it on the wall, watching her mull things over. She was never really supposed to know, or to have come back in the first place. If only the rift had not appeared... But they would both have lived out the remainder of their lives in different planes of agony, wouldn't they? "Fate is a funny thing," he whispered. Jareth loved the way she stuck out her lower lip when she was thinking too hard. "I had hoped to spare you from the world you so obviously detested, and yet here you are."

Sarah looked up to him with a frown. "I don't hate the Labyrinth. Why would you think that?" This was her place of fantasy-the world she had always pretended to live in. Even if she had to do it through the characters in her storybooks, Sarah had always felt a distinct pull to magic. Especially here.

Jareth gave her a perplexed look, then settled on one of anguish. "I see. Just its king, then." Without further ado he turned and pushed on the gate. It only swung open a crack, enough for him to slip through, before it slammed shut again.

She stared at the doors for a long time. A very long time. Sarah was confounded, and hungry, and covered in dirt still, and yet she pondered the doors until the sun had moved considerably overhead. Finally she turned to the rose and picked it up. Several petals floated to the ground.

The Goblin King had run away from her. That was a first. Twirling the flower carefully, noting the lack of thorns, Sarah was overcome with the weighty feeling of guilt. What would she have done if there was no heir to carry on her kingdom? What would happen to the Labyrinth without one, anyway? And he would have left her alone to grow up... Perhaps the worst thing was Jareth's last look to her. Resolutely, she frowned and pushed the doors wide again.

Now the Goblin City was bustling with the activity of a busy day. She barely noticed as they stopped their various tasks to part and let her through, then stare after her back. It did not take long before Sarah was back inside the castle and picking random hallways to run down.

Damn him for confusing her like this. She was supposed to be beyond anger right now. Why then was she chasing him down? There was nothing good that could come out of another confrontation, but Sarah didn't really care. It was impossible fix this, and still she wanted to find him. Infuriated, she came to a halt in a doorway.

"No, no way am I doing _that_ again!" she shouted at the Escher Room. Once had been more than enough. Her echo bounced back at her forlornly, mocking, from the different tiers and levels and directions. Sighing, she plopped down on the stairs. "Goblin King, get your royal butt out here. You can't avoid this forever, not when we have work to do tomorrow." Nothing happened, so Sarah let her head fall back onto the step above her. But instead of stone her skull met something different.

"I am not avoiding the situation," Jareth retorted pompously as Sarah jerked her head off his boots. "Merely giving you the time to decide whether or not our trip shall be a mute one."

She stood quickly and crossed her arms. This attitude was getting old, and fast. "You may be mute if you wish," she snorted, "but I'll end up talking your ear off either way." Thankfully that elicited a nice little smug grin from the Goblin King. "But," she continued, waving her finger in his face. Both surprised, they looked to the white flower still clutched in her grasp. "But no more secrets, no more lies. I'm older than I was six years ago," Sarah tried. "I'm an adult now, whatever you may think, and I won't stand to have you treat me like I'm fifteen." Her voice softened a little. Just a tiny bit. Jareth noticed her gaze flit to flower. "Arguing over the past won't help us bind the dark vein." He gave her a look of pure uncertainty and refused to say anything. "Just..." Sarah looked away and twisted the stem in her hands. "Can we start over?"

After claiming on how much of an adult she was, she had to go and sound like a teenager again. What a terrible thing to ask of the Goblin King, the person least likely to forget what had happened between them.

"If that is what you wish."

Sarah blinked up to find him scrutinizing her. No fight? Her face hardened a bit. "Promise me." She cringed a little at how childish that sounded, too.

Jareth walked slowly down the few steps separating them. "Sarah Williams, I promise never to treat you as anyone but who you are. If you wish to begin anew, then so be it." Then he bowed regally, a sweeping gesture of his arm, and grasped her hand in his. "My lady, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Mouth agape, she watched as he brushed her knuckles with his lips. "May I inquire as to the lady's name?"

Despite herself a smile turned Sarah's mouth. "That may be pushing it, Goblin King."

Jareth shrugged but refused to relinquish her hand. "Then I shall ask the mystery woman to dinner, regardless of her title."

Frowning, Sarah tilted her head and looked him up and down. What had just happened? "I would be delighted to join you for dinner, if only I knew the name of my host?"

He smirked and dropped her fingers. "A name for a name," the Goblin King laughed and shook his head. "Perhaps we dine tonight as strangers. But by tomorrow I plan to have learned much more of you," he swore, suddenly serious. The smile on his mouth turned far more wicked and less playful. "Much more." With a quick motion he plucked the rose from her fingers, twirled it once, and disappeared between one blink and the next.

Sarah was left on the steps of the Escher Room, not sure which way was up or down. Her head seemed to be in a similar state. "Did the Goblin King just ask me...to dinner?"

* * *

Brock did not understand. Not one bit. Jareth was rummaging around in a corner of the armory, going through a battered trunk, and seemed absolutely thrilled about something.

"I understand that Sarah was looking for you this morning," he tried. The king continued to plow through the contents of the box. "She seemed quite upset, and after she stormed out Margaret informed me that she had stumbled upon your...private chambers."

"She most certainly was upset, and most certainly did stumble upon my private chambers," Jareth confirmed. Brock was astounded to see him rise from the trunk with a wicked smile. "Yes, she was beautifully furious." He blew a little on the object resting in his palm. A puff of dust wafted into the air.

"Ah...did you..." The general sought for the right words. To put it delicately. "Explain the situation to her?"

"I did," he replied smartly before standing.

"Then she did not take it well?" Brock guessed, brow creasing.

His king laughed and tossed the pyramidal prism in his hand experimentally, then caught it in the other. "Mad as a wet goblin."

"Majesty, I fail to see the humor in this situation," he sighed. "I have tried, for the past few moments, to comprehend just what it is that could make you so happy. Especially with the impending journey."

"I am in good spirits," Jareth laughed while continuing to inspect the prism, "because it was Sarah who suggested we let bygones be bygones. Similarly, it was Sarah who demanded that I treat her the age she is, instead of a child." The grin was consuming his face. "Although I'm not sure the poor girl fully understood those implications."

Brock hung his head so that the king would not detect his smile of understanding. Sarah would be even more angry when she saw how he was going to twist her words. He bit back a laugh and looked up again. "I see. And how old is the lady Sarah?"

Jareth tipped his blond head this way and then that, angling the prism to better catch the light. "Twenty-one in human years."

"Hmm," he nodded back. Then he watched as Jareth's face became wistful. "Why the sudden course of action? Do not think that the cook's ranting went unnoticed. You changed tonight's menu completely, halfway through the day. He was livid."

"Because," Jareth sighed, dropping the prism to his side, "Sarah is no longer the awkward girl that captured my attention. The remedy to a kingdom on the edge of ruin, enough antidote of dreams to produce a long line of healthy heirs. Eventually," he amended, thinking back to her earlier assumption. "She's..." He brought the prism back to his face again, blocking Brock's critical gaze. "Completely, wildly, intoxicatingly different. And yet the same."

The general could see it in his king's mismatched gaze quite clearly. It was the same gleam in his eye that had been there thirteen years ago, in Underground time, but perhaps more pronounced. He left him standing in the armory, frozen like a statue and contemplating that ancient piece of weaponry.

Jareth was silently grateful when Brock took his leave. The prism he sat delicately on the rough wooden table at his hip, and then he stared at his boots. No, she really did not understand how he could manipulate her words. But oh, how he longed to...Sarah had more or less invited it in, this howling, raging beast inside his chest. Thirteen years of her absence and then the hinges were blown off his resolve once again. Temptation was too great now, at this second chance. He would take it for all it was worth.

* * *

After wondering around the castle, lost, Sarah finally made it to her room to find Margaret waiting there. The maid informed her that breakfast had been missed altogether, and lunch nearly had also, but there was still a tray waiting for her. She ate the meal gratefully.

"Miss Sarah," Margaret asked, cheerily discovering that the girl was not in a foul mood after that morning, "would you still like for the staff to prepare another room for your stay? This one is not terribly comfortable, nor does it have the best view. Why, Camille was in a state, excited about picking new colors, because she heard you were staying-"

Sarah smiled and continued to eat while the maid rambled. Clearly things were already being arranged, and who was she to stop them? Maybe by the time they returned from the journey her new room would be finished.

Returned... That was just it. What happened after they bound the vein? She would live here in the castle for the rest of eternity and have to put up with Jareth and the goblins on a daily basis. Sure, he had agreed to start over and perhaps he would act civil. Sarah could blend in with the rest of his subjects, right?

And wear his queen's clothes, and sleep in a room outfitted just for her, and dine with him for every meal?

No... It would drive her mad. Wouldn't it? Maybe... She frowned as Margaret started elaborating on her new draperies. Maybe she could live in a little house on the outskirts of town. True, Larimon had ordered that she stay in the castle, but what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. If Jareth gave her the essentials, then it would be easy to make a new life for herself. A better one than the twisted existence she had scraped by with Aboveground. Thoughtfully she tapped her fork on the plate. At dinner she could ask.

"Miss Sarah?" Margaret laughed. She drug herself out of her thoughts to see the maid holding up a dress. "For dinner?"

"Hmm?" she asked intelligently. "Oh. Do I have to change?" Questioningly she looked down to her current garments.

The other woman gave a secretive smile at her daydreaming stare into space. "I think it would be a nice gesture. His majesty will most likely switch to clean attire, also."

Oh. Clean. Sarah looked at her dirty dress, the poor beautiful thing... "Yes, of course. You're absolutely right. Here," she stood hurriedly and moved her hair so it could be unbuttoned. Right then it seemed adamant that Jareth not see her in any other state than particularly stunning. Primarily if she was going to ask him for any favors.

* * *

The fact had been made very clear that Sarah did not want an escort. Margaret had given her directions to the dining room. What Sarah really wanted was a few moments to herself, to calm her nerves. Not because she was having dinner with the Goblin King...that had been going to happen anyway. She still wasn't sure how to ask him for a residence outside of his castle.

Her thoughts swirled furiously. Jareth could be pretty damn persuasive when it came right down to things. It was by sheer luck and anticipation of his trickery that she had escaped him this far.

Seduction was the only feasible answer, Sarah thought with a snort. The right look, the briefest touch, and he could get his way. He even seemed to stand in a royally alluring manner, without any effort. Well, maybe she should give it a try.

The dress was a great kick-start to that plan. It was a dazzling red, of all things, and had neither buttons nor strings. Shape, cut, and texture all felt extremely modern with the square neckline and back. The opening dipped to just below her shoulder blades. Altogether the dress was mostly conservative, nipped and tucked in all the right places for sure, but the back was really the only drastic part. And her hair was down. Ah, the element of surprise...

Too soon she came to the door Margaret had described. Should she knock? No, this wasn't a private room, just a place to eat... Slowly she turned the golden knob and peered around the door.

Instantly she took back her words. This was very private, no kind of dining room she had ever imagined. There were lavish couches and chairs, an enormous fireplace, candles resting on every surface. Must be a mistake, no way could she eat in here-

Just as she started to shut the door, a gloved hand caught it from the other side and pulled it open gently. "You are early."

Her stomach hiccuped. Her chest swelled and tightened. Her lips buzzed. Jareth stood before her in all his regalia-boots polished to a bright shine, black breeches, and a forest-green coat embellished with threads of silver. A delicate eyebrow lifted when Sarah gave no response, too worried about the way her spine was zinging.

It was telling her to run. Far. Far. Away.

Jareth opened the door wider and motioned for her to step inside. Cautiously she entered, then almost jumped out of her skin when he placed a gloved hand in the small of her back as guidance. "We're eating here?" she managed.

"No," he smiled, then nodded to another part of the room. "There."

Confused, she let him lead her to a wide window. It wasn't until they were up close that Sarah saw it had a door handle. And when he swung it open...

"Oh my," was all she could breathe. What else did you say to a balcony set with a table for two? With white roses spilling from the walls and draping over the railing, and candles lit above the china and cutlery? "What are we celebrating?"

Quietly he led her to a seat and pulled out the chair. "A safe journey." Really, he was thinking something more along the lines of 'new beginnings,' or even, 'the simple fact that you agreed to dinner.'

"It's very..." Sarah looked around again and only came back to the startling image of the Goblin King bathed in candlelight. "Beautiful." Her throat felt sticky.

"Yes," he mused, never breaking the gaze. "It most certainly is."

Sarah looked down to escape the suddenly awkward silence. What the hell was she doing? Shouldn't she try and be a little more...compelling? But on her plate was something really unexpected. She picked up the white rose, recognizable from earlier with a few missing petals, and the place where she had twisted it with nerves.

Through her lashes she looked up to Jareth again. He had kissed her twice on the lips and once on the neck, setting her on fire in places Sarah didn't know she had. It wasn't...fair. And now, just by simply tilting his head to the side like that, he was doing it again. Suddenly she wanted revenge. The emotion was inexplicable-but surely Jareth deserved a taste of his own medicine.

He watched with satisfaction as Sarah noticed the rose. "That," the Goblin King commented softly, magicking the stopper from a bottle of champagne, "is what inspired tonight's decorations."

Idly she twirled the rose a bit, then tucked it behind her ear. Jareth almost roared with pleasure at the simple gesture. "It seems like a lot of trouble," Sarah smiled to her plate, "to decorate so extravagantly before we go off to battle the forces of Hell." Quietly she took a sip from the glass he offered her. A quick glance out of the corner of her eye made him wish he had let his fingers linger on hers a moment longer. "Why the trouble?"

Sipping from his own glass, he reclined a little more in his chair. "Why not? It seemed fitting that we should have at least one night together before chaos rears it's ugly head. And the staff was only too happy to decorate for you." A chuckle escaped him. "Sarah, you are the most interesting thing to happen to the Labyrinth for quite some time."

She seemed genuinely surprised at that. A secretive smile turned the corners of her mouth, which, he was stunned to notice, was painted a dark ruby. "Then we shall have to indulge them more often."

This was a complete one-eighty from the Sarah that morning. Her voice was low and charming, eyes pulling at him from across the table. And now was she suggesting more of these meetings? Things were going awfully well, and they weren't even to the first course...

Over and over again she prayed that he was buying it. A little at a time the smirk was creeping back up, his posture becoming more and more confident, his eyes wide and dark. Oh, yeah. She still had it. Jareth had picked the wrong woman to mess with. Her line of work for the past three years had been a much bolder, blatant form of seduction, but that did not mean she didn't remember how to date. There had been two, maybe three relationships, during which Sarah kept her kind of employment a secret. But none of them had ever lasted...

Crap. Well, no use going back now.

Servers appeared from the room beyond to place before them trays and trays of exquisite food. For a while neither spoke, simply ate. Dessert came and went, but, amazingly, Sarah still felt as light as if she had consumed no more than crackers and water. Full, but not stuffed. The lack of conversation was grating on her nerves. There must be something else she could say, or do...

Just as the last server retreated with the empty plates, Sarah stood rather quickly. Jareth rose also, as a gentleman should when the lady left the table. His face fell at the sudden movement-perhaps she had not enjoyed herself at all and wanted to turn in early. Damn...had it really been that long since he had entertained a woman? But confusion flitted across his face as Sarah came to stand beside him.

"Dance with me?"

He blinked. She said it shyly, like a girl asking her crush to dance at their first sixth-grade get-together. Complete with chaperoning teachers. For some reason the spark in him flared hotter than ever before. Any other woman would have trailed fingers down his arm, or leaned in to whisper against the shell of his ear-but not his Sarah, oh, no. He could see the challenge in her eyes more than anywhere else.

Which is exactly what she wanted.

"I would be honored." A snap of his fingers made the table disappear. The balcony widened to a larger dance space, and several more candles flared to life. Around them the air was filled with the soft hum of a melody.

Sarah watched him walk forward just as he had six years ago. Let him take her by the waist and hand, and pulled her close. Not too close...barely close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.

Alright. _Close_.

"You are beautiful tonight," he whispered finally. Jareth had hungered to say it all evening, and all morning if the truth be told. Even when he had seen her abed with no dress at all, he had wanted to say it. So he said it again. "Very beautiful."

She blushed prettily and looked down to his green garments. The hand on his shoulder crept closer and closer to his neck, slightly tingling the hairs that drifted down to her fingers. "You clean up pretty good yourself."

The smile he gave her was not smug or haughty. It was a real, pleasant smile. "Thank you, my dear."

Not that he didn't always look nearly edible... Mentally Sarah kicked herself. Now was not the time to get sidetracked. She almost felt...shame for the way she was egging him on. With a start she wondered to herself if this was how she would have acted anyway, under different circumstances. Already her hand had acted of its own accord and was resting on the nape of his neck. When had that happened? Jareth looked beyond pleased with her willingness to play along. Sarah found herself almost reluctant to ask her question now. What if she waited until sometime during the trip? Or even after? He might trust her more once they had spent some time together-once she showed him that she could take care of herself. But to do it now, to ruin this illusion of decadence... No. Not now.

"Your choice of dress is especially interesting," he mused aloud. The gloved hand on her waist traveled up to sweep away the hair and drape it across a shoulder. Lightly he skimmed the exposed length of her spine, still fresh in his mind from that morning.

A little shiver coursed through Sarah, almost making her steps falter, and her fingers tightened reflexively in his frosty hair. Shit...why couldn't he be seduced for once, instead of doing it the other way around? It was like he couldn't help himself, and had known all along exactly what her dress revealed. This had to end soon, or she was going to do something regrettable. Her mind flickered briefly to the room inside, candlelit with cushy furniture...

The song finally wound down. Afraid that another would play, Sarah gave a graceful yawn behind her hand. It was almost realistic. Still Jareth kept her in his hold. "I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "It's just been a long couple of days." Slowly she let her hand slide down from his neck, lingering on his chest before he pulled away.

"Of course," Jareth nodded back. "Allow me to escort you to your quarters. Tomorrow will prove to be an even longer day, I fear." Delightedly he took the hand she offered, not sorry at all. Not in the least.

The balcony disappeared and reformed into the door to her room. Jareth had a firm grip on her hand and didn't seem to be letting go anytime soon. "Thank you, Jareth. For a wonderful dinner," she smiled. That was his cue...go on, she thought. Sarah needed to sleep off this fuzzy feeling...too much champagne, or something.

He brought her hand to his mouth a second time that day. "My pleasure." Then he smirked lightly and took a step closer. "It may be, in your opinion, too bold of me to kiss you goodnight."

Sarah's stomach plummeted. That was almost a question. God, if he did...she might not stop him. "Yes, it would be too bold of you." Automatically the smile died on his mouth. "But not of me."

Quickly, before Jareth knew what was happening, Sarah had raised herself up on tip-toes and kissed the corner of his mouth. Just the corner, where his lips had a fondness for curling up in a lazy grin. She lingered for a moment, but not long enough for him to understand, and then pulled away. He dropped her hand in shock.

Taking advantage of his temporary speechlessness and lack of movement, she opened the door behind her and slipped inside, turning just enough for him to glimpse the open back of her dress. Through the crack she whispered a soft, "Goodnight," and then shut it slowly. Once inside, exhausted, Sarah leaned heavily against the frame and closed her eyes. What a close call.

Jareth stood still for several moments looking at the closed door. Never, ever in his life, had a woman kissed him and then retreated. Like that. And left him staring after her.


	9. What a Wicked Game

IX

What a Wicked Game

She should have gone to sleep right after Jareth's booted steps faded from the hall. But now she was insistently awake. Her mind was undergoing a series of dizzying mental acrobatics, dumbfounded, and particularly frustrated.

Pretty much what it boiled down to was that Sarah Williams was digging her own grave.

Jareth would be angry beyond reason if he ever found out that a large portion of the night had been acting. She had stooped as low as him, just to get something she wanted.

But, she argued with herself, the question had never come. So maybe she had flirted with him. A lot. And kissed him, which was a nice change from his usual decision to pursue her mouth. It disturbed her most of all that on some levels she had...enjoyed his company. Jareth would always be dangerous subconsciously, no matter how intoxicating, and Sarah was beginning to worry that the sheer challenge of him was what allured her.

As far as she could tell, he hadn't been acting. Perhaps working behind a carefully constructed wall of manners, but not necessarily putting on any kind of show. Why would he? Unless...

"Oh, damn!" Sarah mumbled into her pillow before giving it a good punch. It was obvious. So obvious. Wasn't he just trying to woo her back into staying for good? Well, apparently the staff already thought her residence was permanent if they were redecorating. "Treat me like an adult," she whined in a high-pitched voice. He sure had, hadn't he? "Tell me I'm beautiful...let me kiss you...take me to dinner..." And she had created the entertainment.

This could not go on. No way in Hell was Jareth going to lure her into staying permanently at his castle. She could guess that the ultimate goal was not much different than that of six years earlier.

"_I had hoped that perhaps one day you could come to me on your own. As a woman worthy to rule at my side."_

Jareth wanted it to be her decision to accept all that he offered, that much was clear. 'I won't let him persuade me so easily,' she thought stubbornly. 'In the morning I cut the crap and end last night's charade.' Before her mind wavered the image of the king's canopied bed, draped in silks, the large windows letting in starlight. Two figures entangled, swallowed by the darkness.

"No no no!" She mumbled, shaking her head and ignoring the way her stomach lurched. "It's already started," came the miserable moan. "He's making me feel things that aren't real, just with a little clever trickery. I can't even seduce a man properly..."

Despite what she told herself, the physical attraction between them had been all too real. Why Jareth wanted her to stay, besides being handy to impregnate, was beyond her. He had never given her reason to believe that there was any other motive for her run of the Labyrinth, besides keeping her and Toby to better the kingdom. And, as much as she cared for the Labyrinth, Sarah was not going to attach herself to someone for lust and duty. It simply wasn't enough.

Limply she flopped down onto her bed, head at the footboard. Giving the Goblin King false hope of that future would only reap terrible consequences. A sneaking suspicion told her he could pull the 'Larimon Card' and declare that orders were orders. Another obstacle to overcome.

Pulling the blanket over her head, still dressed, Sarah sighed and resigned herself to coming up with something good to say in the morning. Before this got messy.

* * *

In the end Jareth decided that walking around his castle would not dispel any of this new energy. Instead he launched himself from a nearby window and took to the sky, riding the wind and surveying his darkened kingdom. The elation rumbling around in his chest might have been enough for flight in itself, owl form or no.

Tonight it had seemed that Sarah's stubbornness was finally coming to an end. He was ecstatic. Even though she had refused the Goblin King and plunged him into a rather terrible existence for the last thirteen years of his life, something cold and bitter and lonely, she had still returned to him by fate's hand. She really wasn't a child any longer if the evening was evidence enough. Softly he hooted and settled in a nearby tree.

What he hoped for the most was her understanding. Perhaps she had finally come to the conclusion that his past actions were out of necessity. No matter that he had fallen for her in the process...right now forgiveness was the main priority. He had conveniently let that little detail slip before, not having completely acknowledged it himself, and saw no reason why his heart should play into matters. For so long he had forgotten he even had one.

It was all too good to be true, honestly. Sarah's character would not normally allow her to be so enchanted by his advancements. Jareth found that he rather liked the way things had gone. Not only had she enjoyed his charms...she had spun some of her own. Now, _that_ was a new twist to the game. Thoughtfully he ran his beak through a few feathers. If tonight had gone so well, perhaps tomorrow would prove even better. To have her here permanently, a constant part of his home, of his life... The happiness at the thought was more than he could bear. Restless, the owl dived from the branch and swooped to a deeper part of his Labyrinth.

* * *

Margaret found Sarah awake and sitting up in bed when the sun rose. She claimed not to be sick, but the dark circles under her eyes looked like large plum bruises. Following breakfast, Lyra even came in while she dressed in new garments and looked her over.

"I'm fine," she sighed for the tenth time. "Sleep was just long in coming last night. It's ok, really." Vacantly Sarah plucked at her new pants. They were a thick, strong, leathery type of material. So were the boots, but the shirt was light and airy. Related to cotton. Nearby a jacket was hanging over the back of a chair. It was a dark green trench that fell to her knees with wide cuffs and a collar, strangely modern. "Maybe I was just nervous about today."

Lie. That was definitely a lie. She would rather face a hundred dragons than Jareth right now. He was probably strutting around the castle like a proud peacock and expecting more kisses. Better kisses.

Things worse than kisses. Promises.

Why had she started with the seduction??

Lyra crossed her arms with a frown. "Fine. But I'm sending you a pouch of sleeping pills. It won't do for you to have insomnia on this journey," she snorted. "What if you finally find sleep while riding the dragon thousands of feet up a mountain, hmm?" Quickly she tossed a small pouch onto Sarah's lap. "One, just one, before bed."

"Thanks," she muttered. Without even looking inside she stuffed the pouch into the pack Margaret had brought her. Lord only knew what was in there. Currently, the maid was standing to the side and frowning.

Lyra nodded and disappeared impatiently. Sarah yawned a little and stared at her toes, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes. Stupid sleep...all night long she had worked to come up with something to say. Anything to take back what she had done last night, as if it was just a switch that could be flicked on and off.

'_I know I've been sending mixed signals, but keep your hands off, Goblin King. Doesn't matter how delicious you always look. Just because I kiss you doesn't mean you're allowed to kiss me back. Send me to live at the edge of the Bog. Everything you've given me is completely and utterly fantastic, but I don't want any of it. Never cause my pulse to race with your sly grins again.'_

That would never work.

The maid watched as Sarah groaned and dropped her head onto her knees. She looked terrible, almost like the world was ending. As far as she had gathered, at least from the way Jareth had practically danced down the hall that morning, things at dinner had gone extremely well. So why Sarah's despair?

"It's going to be alright," she soothed in a motherly way. Sarah looked up at the hand on her arm. There was no way to tell if Margaret was talking of the journey, or something else. Inwardly she moaned at the thought that the whole castle could probably guess. The staff had, after all, enthusiastically decorated for the dinner.

"Thanks," she smiled back softly. Seeming satisfied, the maid held out her hand for Sarah to take once she had grabbed the pack. One last look to her tower room, wondering if she would ever see it again, was the last thing Sarah did before they disappeared.

It was the first time she had seen the throne room completely full of goblins. The scene was a pure outbreak of turmoil. Everywhere scampered creatures of many shapes and sizes, feathery and scaly and dirty. Most were fighting or drinking. Or both. And in the center of it all sat Jareth, looking positively irritated.

The wailing child in his lap blocked all the other distractions from her mind. She was very tiny, no more than three years old, and her large doe eyes were weepy. A full head of spiraled curls tumbled down her back, strawberry blond. The scared girl could barely contain herself.

Sarah strode through the sea of rambunctious goblins faster than Margaret could stop her. The maid was shocked at the sight, and determined that the summons must have occurred only moments before. Her king raised his head as his subjects began to jump left and right out of Sarah's way, chest sagging a little.

This was not, he thought, how he had wanted to start the morning. He had tried everything to calm the child, but she was frightened beyond reason. Her mother had only been inside the Labyrinth three quarters of an hour. And now Sarah was striding toward him with fire in her eyes. Was it too difficult to merely wake up in a quiet bed for once? Preferably wrapped around the woman marching in his direction?

Apparently.

"Jareth," Sarah nearly shouted over the noise, "what's going on?"

Closing his eyes for a moment did not cause anything to alter in his favor. "Little Emily has been wished away by her mother. I'm afraid she's..." A fresh wave of tears started. "Distraught."

Sarah hated this. Hated this like she hated herself for ever wishing away her brother. For once she would like to try and fix her mistake. "Let me have her."

"Sarah," Jareth warned, "her mother has to solve the Labyrinth. There is no way around it." His gaze was regretful.

She shook her head and sighed. "I understand that. Just..." Quickly she deposited her pack and coat onto the floor. Later she could wonder what kind of filth might be clinging to them. "Let me see if I can quiet her down."

Skeptically he looked between her and Emily, but Sarah had already knelt down to the girl's level. Immediately her wails became wracking sniffles.

"Emily?" she asked softly. The girl seemed surprised that she knew her name. "I'm Sarah. It's smelly in here, isn't it?" Jareth frowned, but the child seemed shocked into silence by the joke. "If you let me, I'd like to be your friend, ok?" She nodded back. "Can I tell you a story?"

There was almost no hesitation when Sarah held out her arms before Emily wrapped herself around her neck. She hoisted the child up and settled her on a hip. The way she buried her face in her collarbone, staining Sarah's shirt front with wet tears, was breaking her heart.

Jareth looked on in awe. One minute, two tops, and his Sarah had done what he had tried to accomplish for the last hour. And he had done this job for centuries. "Sarah..."

The soft whisper of her name, coupled with his disbelieving look, caused her to halt cooing Rapunzel's story into the girl's ear. "What?" She shifted the girl a bit on her hip. It had been years and years, unfortunately, since she had carried around Toby.

Silently the Goblin King shook his head and reached for her hips. "Sit down. You can't carry her for too long." A sad smile haunted his mouth. "And Rapunzel is a rather lengthy story."

Sarah felt shocking ripples radiate through her at his soft touch. When she did not move, his hands pulled her a little closer. "Sit where?"

Shrugging, he pulled her firmly into his lap. "Here." A few dark chuckles escaped him at her incredulous look. "My dear, this throne was only built for one."

'Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it' she chanted furiously in her head. Emily was waiting expectantly for more story, regardless of how Jareth was tugging on her thigh to situate them properly.

Contentedly he reclined back against his throne and listened to Sarah spin her tale. The child's eyes were growing heavy with sleep and exhaustion from crying, so she snuggled into Sarah's chest and barely stayed awake until the end. How he had dreamt of this picture for years...perhaps with a child of hair more fair, and emerald eyes. A boy. Yes, it most definitely would be a boy.

The dark circles under her eyes did not escape him, not when she was so close. Discreetly he settled one arm at her back, atop the armrest she was leaning into, but Sarah took no notice. She looked about to fall asleep herself.

"What will happen to her?" she mumbled finally. Jareth was surprised that talking was even a possibility for Sarah in this state.

"A childless couple will adopt her, should the mother fail," came the measured answer. It pained him to no end to watch her smooth the sleeping child's hair.

An awkward frown settled between her brows. "I'm going to visit her." Slowly she looked up to find Jareth studying her with a curious expression. "All of them."

It occurred to Jareth that Sarah was in no small amount of pain at the moment. The past was literally being flung in her face, all her shortcomings...and possibly his as well. He had no desire for her to eventually think herself in that direction. Or take drastic measures to adopt every wished-away child that fell to him, like an old lady who took in every alley cat. So he let the girl content herself with those chivalrous thoughts. Discreetly he pulled an orb from the air behind her back, then let it loose to float down a corridor. She never noticed.

Lightly he touched the dark circles under her eyes, which only caused her to stiffen and jerk away. "Why do you look as if you did not sleep last evening?"

Inwardly she groaned. Somehow it always happened this way. Never could she be powerful and intimidating like him, charge in with commands, and get what she wanted. She had to look like a slob and fumble for words. "Nothing." When there was no answer she pulled her stare from Emily's sleeping form. "_Nothing_," came the harsh articulation again, "happened last night."

Jareth's features sharpened considerably with shock. What in the Underground was she going on about? Surely not dinner. No, Sarah had been the ringleader the entire night...she could not tell him now that all her little moves had been _nothing_. Nothing, tra la la?

The muscles in his thighs underneath her tensed. She could feel them clench beneath her own. Warily she looked into his face before he said, "I see. Then our journey will go as smoothly as planned." It was the Goblin King she was regarding now, and not Jareth. Not the person who she had dined with, danced with, and kissed to get out of deeper trouble.

Fortunately for Jareth's pride, and Sarah's nerves, Brock strode into the throneroom. The sight of the two sharing the throne, and of the child finally asleep and calm, baffled him for a moment. "All borders have been secured," he tried, "and barriers have been installed until your return. The dragon is in the courtyard."

The king barely acknowledged his general before saying, "Give the child to Brock, Sarah." His voice was no longer laced with gentle concern for her sleep. It was cold.

Sarah shouldn't be getting upset by all of this. It was perfectly fair for him to be miffed after she had led him on last night, then fussed over the child and tried to do his job. But she was angry all the same. "Fine." Bolting upright, but still managing not to wake Emily, she handed the sleeping girl over to Brock's waiting arms. She refused to look at Jareth as she snatched up her things from the ground.

Ignoring Sarah's jerky movements, Jareth turned to Brock trying to juggle the sleeping girl. "Her mother has barely begun the trek, but does not look to be a promising runner. Then again," he mused softly, "there was only ever one that could hold my attention for longer than five minutes." Sarah halted her movements out of the corner of his eye. "I believe the Liad's have sent in the necessary adoption forms, and they will welcome a daughter. See to the appropriate arrangements."

"Yes, your majesty." He did not have to tell his general to take care of the kingdom. Or that there would be serious consequences to any failing actions. "May your journey prove successful."

Jareth gave a curt nod before turning to Sarah. She widened her eyes as a gloved hand clamped around her arm and steered her to the doors. There wasn't even time to glance back at Emily before they had shut behind them with a snap.

His anger had only mounted in the last few seconds. Outside the dragon was indeed waiting, wings unfolded and testing the slight breeze restlessly. No one was about, not even the goblins, for they liked to occupy themselves in the throne room when a child was about. So he spun Sarah into the dragon's scaly hide and pressed his nose to hers.

Inside her windpipe refused to draw air. He was radiating an intense seething power. "No more secrets, no more lies," came the growl. "That is precisely what you said to me yesterday, Sarah. I am beginning to find it difficult to trust you, just as you seem to have difficulty trusting me." Behind her the dragon shifted. Almost lazily Jareth brought up a finger to trace the curve of her mouth. "What I do not understand," he whispered at her shudder, "is why."

Forcefully she pushed him away and backed toward the dragon's head. It swivelled around some more, as if interested in the argument. "Why not?" she retorted hotly, echoing his words from the night before. "You apparently think it's fine to kiss me whenever you want, and I won't have it."

"Won't you?" he laughed darkly, stalking towards her. Thoughtfully he let his gaze search her face. "My dear," came the drawl, "you are as afraid of me as you were all those years ago. Perhaps in different ways," he smiled, "but still afraid."

Sarah dropped her jaw. "I am not afraid of you, Goblin King, and I never was!" Even the angry tone could not convince herself. She had always been petrified of what he could do to her mind, her soul, her body. "It's about time someone came along and took advantage of you."

Snakelike, a quick dart of his hands, and he had grasped the open sides of her jacket and drug her into him. "Returning such a favor would require me to have taken advantage of you in the first place," he hissed. "You insist on playing with fire? So be it. But make your wishes carefully, Sarah."

Her heart was thudding at his pointed grin. Only too well did her skin remember how Jareth had kissed her neck, and wondered if the fangs had been far behind.

"If you wanted a villain," he continued, jerking his hands so that Sarah fell completely into him, "then all you had to do was ask."

What did you say to something like that? He was always so damn confident in himself, she thought, and the smug grin on his face was pissing her off. "If that's what it takes," Sarah hissed back. But a contradictory smile was on her lips. She shook her head and gave out a startling laugh. "Goblin King, I can defeat you in more ways than one."

He had not seen it coming. Never would he have guessed that Sarah would smooth her hands over his chest and down his shoulders, or that the delicious quiver in his body would follow. Thankfully he had enough willpower to keep her from noticing. Especially when she decided to slip her hands beneath his jacket and rake her nails up his spine.

"Enough," he spat, throwing her away. It did not matter much to her, but she was pleased to note that his voice was a tad husky. Effortlessly he swung himself up onto the dragon's back, just above the powerful shoulders. "Get on."

Amazed, she watched as the dragon lowered it's entire neck to the ground for her. At first she tried to climb onto a spot behind Jareth, but he turned and caught her wrist. "What?"

His smirk was priceless. "Not there, precious thing." Softly he tugged her around and pointed to the spot in front of him. "I will not have you trying to distract me the entire trip."

Well, there went that plan. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea, anyway...they could both hurtle headfirst into the ground. Grudgingly she climbed onto the spot he had designated for her. Stiffly she sat, back rigid. With a start she felt the muscles of the dragon ripple beneath her. It gave one heavy beat of his wings experimentally, and then a second. She could already feel herself shifting uncomfortably on the slick scales.

Jareth laughed at her discomfort. "Hold on, Sarah, lest you fall during the takeoff."

"Hold on to what?" she screeched back. Her hands could find no purchase.

"Hmm," he rumbled thoughtfully. "I see your dilemma. Well, then."

The blood in her veins froze solidly before deciding to gush in a heated flush to her face. Her waist had become prisoner to the Goblin King's ever-tightening embrace. Already she could feel every breath that he took expand and contract against her back. "Jareth-"

"No harnesses for a dragon, love," came the mock-apology. "They are extremely proud creatures. And besides." The way he shifted against her back made her eyes widen. "I am rather enjoying this position."

There was nothing she could do to stop him from tucking his knees into the back of hers. The dragon flapped again, causing a smacking wind around them. One more and they would be in the air. "When I get off of this crazy thing-"

"Yes, yes," Jareth laughed dismissively, "you will counter my actions with something far worse." Just before the last pump of the dragon's wings, before they shot into the air and launched toward the sky, he whispered, "I look forward to it."

* * *

So close...Larimon sighed and stroked his chin thoughtfully. The wished-away girl had nearly done her job, from what he could see, beginning to separate the king and Champion. There had been moments before when each looked ready to kill the other, and the young mother had been ignorant enough to fall for his trap. But it hadn't been enough. One taste of the past and all its pain was not as effective as he had hoped, if the last look on Jareth's face was any indication. He would need a stronger, fiercer plan. It was a shame, really, that his looking pool only relayed sound when talking to his master.

Last night had almost seen the High Chancellor running to the hills. Before they had even left, the two targets were dining together and appeared...nearly intimate. Some shift in the girl had thankfully occurred. He pondered for a moment what her weakness could possibly be. Larimon was not fool enough to ignore the signs that Sarah would be the key to the Goblin King's demise. By some means he must provoke an end, preferably in a way that his hands remained clean.

His scouts were already tracking the flying beast through the sky. It would be more difficult than if the two had traveled by horse, but Jareth had most likely planned it that way. No matter. There were plenty of outposts for his minions. Even in the most unlikely of places.

* * *

The view was nothing short of incredible. It was almost enough to make Sarah forget her emotions. Grudgingly she admitted that Jareth did his job well as a stable safety belt of sorts, even if he was taking the immense liberty to sneak his lips into her hair. It was infuriating...she was sure he realized that. But if she tried to knock him away, there was no doubt in her mind that Jareth would take her with him as he fell.

It was terribly windy up here, and the dragon flew at a dizzying speed. Forests and lakes and fields fluttered beneath them. She was glad her garments were made out of the sturdy material. They prevented the smacking air from being painful, because after a while the wind could hurt. As a matter of fact...her unprotected face was stinging just a bit. But her legs were perhaps what hurt the most. Not from the wind, but the sheer force with which she had to clamp herself to the dragon. Like riding a horse at breakneck speed without stirrups to brace yourself.

The sun was the only available clock, and it rose steadily into the sky. Sarah found that her sleepless night was trying to catch up with her. Occasionally she would feel her eyes drifting shut, her head lolling, her posture relaxing. Jerking awake afterwards was abruptly painful and reminded her often of the cramps forming in her calves. She really couldn't help it, though. The sound of rushing air in her ears was strangely hypnotic.

Jareth began to worry after the fifth time the girl dozed off. As much as he wanted to let her sleep, it would prove to be a dangerous feat trying to hold her unconscious form on a moving dragon. When she did not wake he delicately pinched her rib cage.

She awoke with a harsh start and made a loud sound of annoyance and pain. "What was that for?" came the accusing yell, barely heard above the wind.

"For staying up at all hours," he laughed into her ear. Slowly he massaged the pricked spot, soothing the pinched skin. When he removed one arm from around her waist she squealed loudly and clamped onto the other. "No, I am not letting you go." She really did not trust him at all. Swiftly he brought a few gloved fingers to his mouth and gave an earsplitting whistle. Sarah actually cringed, what with the sound right next to her ear. The dragon tilted its wings at an angle and began the slow descent into a wide meadow. Around them the breeze ruffled the grass.

The dragon landed with a soft thud before stretching its long neck and folding the giant wings. Desperately Sarah wanted to get off, to move...but she was stuck...

The Goblin King slid easily from the creature's back and began walking away. She was surprised to see her pack slung carelessly over one shoulder. When had that gotten there? Carefully she twitched her fingers. Alright, those moved just dandy. But her legs were frozen solid. He turned back around once he had noticed she was not following, strutting as if he had been sitting on his throne all day, and shot her a reproving look. "Now, Sarah, I know you've grown quite fond of your friend-"

"Shut it," she said through gritted teeth. Closing her eyes helped to block out how much he was enjoying himself. "Get me down. Now." Nothing happened, but she refused to look. Deflating, Sarah lowered her head a little and her hair, a wild tangled curtain, covered her sighing face. "Please."

There was the thud of the pack dropping before she felt hands on her waist. Jareth gave a lift and Sarah pulled free, rolling to one side and falling smack into his arms. "See how much easier things are when you say the right words?" She struggled free only to have her knees give way. He caught her again, trying very, extremely, hard not to laugh.

A growl was fast forming in her throat, but Sarah refused to give him the satisfaction of anger. She didn't need any help...stubbornly she tried standing again only to find the same result. Why did he have to look down at her like that, like she was an adorably incompetent child? "Why did we stop?"

He quirked an eyebrow before shrugging and scooping Sarah up into his arms. Over the sounds of her displeasure he said, "A break. I can't have you drowsy and try to navigate a dragon at the same time."

"Navigate?" she wondered aloud. "You never spoke a word."

Softly he settled her down a ways from the beast, who was prowling hungrily for lunch. "This," Jareth smiled proudly while tapping the pendant over his chest, "does it for me."

Sarah looked quizzically to the necklace and rubbed her sore legs. "How?"

"The Labyrinth presents each new ruler with an item that helps him or her to better interact with the citizens. It also conveys an understanding from the Labyrinth itself." Wide eyed, she watched as Jareth swatted away her hands and pulled her legs into his lap. "Because of it, and my commands, your lovely omnivore friend does not find you appetizing."

"Wait," she choked, completely ignoring his last statement, "what are you doing?" One boot came free, and then the other. He ignored her and began working a cramp out of one leg, slowly traveling up.

"Do you _want_ me to carry you around for the remainder of our journey?" he snorted.

No, no she didn't...but it might be better than...Sarah bit back the tiniest of moans when his fingers dug into the perfect spot on her calf-

This.

Too quickly he finished with one leg and started on the other. What the hell did he think he was doing, anyway? Surely the cramps would simply vanish on their own. Upon closer inspection, though, she could detect the faintest hint of light beneath his fingers. Her muscles were humming.

"Magic?" She watched, more fascinated than anything, as Jareth accomplished his work and started tugging her boots back on.

He nodded and began walking to the abandoned pack. "Stay here."

'Well,' she thought. 'How nice of him to elaborate.' Cautiously she stood and tested out her legs. They were completely back to normal. Mostly. But she was going to have to ride on that dragon again... Shaking her head, she dropped back to the ground, which was surprisingly cushy. The grass smelled sweet, the sun was warm...

Jareth returned with the pack to find Sarah curled up on the ground. He smiled sadly and took a seat near her sleeping head. Perhaps...perhaps he had been a bit harsh with her. Any feelings that _were _growing for him would only be squashed by his demeaning attitude. Undoubtedly those feelings were scaring her to pieces. The Goblin King found that this new tendency to secondguess his own actions was still mildly foreign to him. Only Sarah could provoke such changes in him, for any other creature would surely be in the oubliette by now.

Lightly he reached out and combed through a few tangled strands of her hair. She always made everything so hard, especially for herself. Sighing, he extracted his fingers and plunged them into her pack. Margaret had filled it with everything he had ordered, and a few other items besides. Silently Jareth checked to make sure the pyramidal prism was tucked safely into a pocket. Sooner or later he would have to introduce Sarah to her weaponry, but for now she could sleep. The dragon flew swiftly, the day was still young, and they would reach their resting spot before nightfall.

A little more rummaging produced a leather bound book. Inside several leaves of blank parchment were nestled against one another, with a slender writing instrument strapped to the outside. That clever maid, always with one thoughtful gesture or another. Jareth settled himself happily and flicked open the book. He had not anticipated any rest on this journey, but the girl had already tumbled far into her dreams. It would certainly help to pass the time.

* * *

Sarah stirred restlessly on the ground. Her neck had a funny crick from lying there so long, no matter how soft it was. There was a rustling noise, like someone rifling through papers, and she opened her eyes to find Jareth flipping through a leather book. He seemed to notice the movements but never turned to face her. Instead, he was looking across the meadow to where the dragon was sprawled, clearly enjoying the sunshine. One gloved hand was making short, quick strokes over a page. "You're awake."

Creakily she arranged herself in a sitting position beside him. Jareth didn't shy away when she leaned in to get a better view of the book in his lap. But there were no words written on the stiff paper.

There was a drawing. A large dragon with his snout turned up to the sky, drinking in the light. Tail wrapped like a feline around it's haunches, grass swaying between the curved claws, wings folded delicately to the side.

Hastily she glanced up to the real dragon, sitting content several feet away. When Sarah looked down again it was as if to a photograph. "Jareth," she marveled softly, "you drew this?" She glimpsed and he had stilled his motions, gracing her with a wry smile.

"Running the Goblin Kingdom does allow me some free time," he admitted. "While obnoxious, my subjects are rather adequate at taking care of themselves. So I found something enjoyable to occupy my time, when I'm not, say..." Jareth started to sketch again, darkening the outline. "...kicking, raging, and throwing. Or bogging."

Sarah chose to disregard his teasing tone and studied the picture carefully. Who knew that the Goblin King had an artistic side? Well...his flamboyant clothes _were_ a little in the flashy plane. But the drawing held such care, such patience, that she was beginning to wonder just _how_ much free time he actually had.

"It's stupendous," she breathed. There was no helping it. Sarah had always appreciated the fantastic, in any art form. Paintings, books, sculptures, movies, plays, music. Jareth stilled his motions again and turned to look at her. "You could have trapped him inside the paper for all I know," she continued.

"If you like it so much," he said, putting the pencil aside, "then you may have it." One tug on the page and it came free from the book.

"Oh, no I couldn't. That's yours!" Sarah protested feebly when he pushed it into her hands. Cradling it in her fingers, not wishing to make a smudge, she bit her lip and watched Jareth rise.

Quickly he tossed the material into the sack and extended a hand. "Consider it a gift."

Her heart was beating roughly in her rib cage. In no way did she deserve such a beautiful piece of artwork. Not when she still had to convince him to let her live outside the castle. There was something soft, almost resigned, in his gaze as he continued to hold out his hand. Relenting, Sarah reached up and let Jareth pull her to stand. "Thank you." He nodded once before striding to the dragon.

She stayed where she was, watching his back. The dark coat he wore, similar to hers, emphasized the strong shoulders and lean back. A sigh strangled out of her throat before she crouched down to the pack he had left. From inside she retrieved the book and slipped the drawing back between two blank pages. The papers flipped in her hands, revealing several more sketches. Amazed, Sarah chanced a look to Jareth before continuing her examination. There were all _kinds_ of things inside-plants, animals, places-

One particular image caught her eye and made her heart nearly explode. Tearing her eyes away for a mere second, she could see that Jareth was trying to rouse the dragon. Hesitantly she opened the book wider.

It was of a young woman asleep in a meadow. Her dark hair was a tanged mess, tumbling windblown around the shoulders of her trench coat. Lips were parted in breathy sleep, head pillowed on one arm. If she didn't know any better, Sarah would have guessed that the dark outline around her mouth suggested the artist had retraced that particular spot. Several times.

Sarah lifted a finger to her own lips and shoved the book back inside the pack with a snap. No one had ever...why had he...

"Time to move on," Jareth called from the dragon's side. She started and jumped to her feet, swinging the pack over a shoulder. "We still have a few more hours to travel before dark," he continued as she drew closer. He was surprised to note that, while the circles were gone from under her eyes, the gaze itself seemed troubled. But there had been enough arguing for one day, so he swung himself up onto the dragon.

Nodding, Sarah followed suit. He half turned on the dragon's back to the spot behind him, sending her a questioning stare. "I promise, no distractions," she vowed. Right now she didn't know if she could handle having his arms wrapped around her waist. That drawing had given her a jilt, a strange tingly feeling in her stomach, that wasn't particularly welcome. It did not need to be furthered.

Jareth pursed his lips, obviously trying to keep some remark to himself, and turned back to the front. "Then hold on."

The dragon did not hesitate by testing its wings as before. He simply crouched low in a pounce and sprang into the sky, barely giving Sarah enough time to grab the sides of Jareth's jacket. It was slick, even with her fingernails dug in, so she mimicked his earlier position and tightened her arms about his waist.

Immediately she was swearing like a sailor in her head, shooting off every expletive known to man. The Goblin King had a ridiculously toned midsection. _Ridiculously_ toned. Worse than that, his wild hair was repeatedly smacking her in the face. Although, his body acted as a pleasant buffer to the wind. Not seeing any other way around it, Sarah closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his shoulder blade. Her nose filled with his spicy scent, trickling down into her lungs, and rushing up into her brain. It was going to be a long ride.

* * *

The High Chancellor was in a varying stages of panic. Master or no master, it was time he did things his own way. Enough trying to sneak inside the minds of this pair-they were falling for each other hard and fast. His minions would have to be called into service, tonight, and finish the job.

He thought it quite brilliant that his master had caused a rift to appear in the Shadowed Pass as a decoy. It was large and sinister enough that it would keep the Goblin King and his Champion occupied, even when lesser veins began to devour every other kingdom Underground.

And Larimon would be the only one with the power to bind them. The other members of the council had been wary of the plan in the beginning, but at length everyone agreed. The Underground could be ruled far better by the High Chancellor's strong hand, every type of creature under one rule, and the other members would have their designated kingdoms. All his master had asked in return was the Aboveground, and that was a small price to pay.

Granting one demon passage through the Underground to get to the mortal realm was not a crime in Larimon's eyes. Not when the demon had given him the key to his heart's desire. And Jareth, his poor pathetic cousin, would finally come to realize who the more powerful being was.

Yes. Tonight.

* * *

Whether because of the setting sun or their northward journey, the air had acquired an icy edge. Jareth could feel the girl shivering against his back. Thankfully the night's resting place was in sight. This time when he whistled the dragon descended into the thick of the forest, amidst gnarled trees and twisted roots.

Sarah's eyes widened to let as much light in as possible. The forest was unnaturally dark and the trees crushed close together. Uncomfortably the dragon swivelled its head, no doubt feeling caged in the tiny clearing. "We have to spend the night here?" she whispered into Jareth's ear. She didn't raise her voice for fear of alerting some barbaric creature. The trees were bad enough, twisting in on themselves like skeletons, casting odd shadows with the dying sun, and looming their direction.

Jareth didn't answer, but placed one hand gently on the arms around his waist. He pried her fingers off him slowly, which was kind considering they seemed to be frozen from the wind, and slid off the dragon. Gallantly he offered a gloved hand, and Sarah took it with a moan. "Another sleepless night." As soon as she was on the ground the dragon unfurled his wings, stretched, and darted back into the sky. "Wait!" Sarah blinked helplessly. She had been counting on the beast for some rather intimidating protection. "Where'd he go?"

"To find dinner," the Goblin King smiled wickedly. "Now hold still." Deftly he began buttoning her jacket down the front.

"Hey!" she protested, smacking at his hands. "I can dress myself, thank you very much."

A little laugh returned to his eyes, something she hadn't noticed to be missing. "Sarah, you and your assumptions." He continued the buttons all the way down to her navel. "At least I am dressing you," he purred, "and not undressing you. Besides. Look."

She ignored the hot flush on her cheeks and glanced down. Instead of the leathery jacket she was wearing a coarse, black cloak. Jareth reached behind her head and pulled a hood magically from nowhere. He situated it low over her forehead, casting a shadow across her green eyes, and tucked a few errant strand of hair underneath.

"What is all this for?" she wondered, inspecting the sleeves long enough to cover her hands.

"I think it wise to keep our identities a secret," he returned softly. A wave of his hand settled his own jacket into another cloak. "These particular people may not know of the vein as of yet, and it is best to keep them in ignorance for now. I can assure you that pandemonium would only ensue." With his hood up, eyes hidden and frosty locks shadowed, Sarah could only identify him by his voice.

Blinking, she asked aloud, "People? Where?"

The smirking lips bared glinting teeth as he nodded toward one side of the clearing. "In the small town beyond these woods. They probably would not have welcomed the dragon, and I saw no reason for spending tonight in such a dangerous forest. Not when there are warm beds in the inn."

"Oh," came the mumbled response. "Well, how could they not know about the vein? I mean...you had to evacuate the whole Labyrinth, didn't you?"

"Quite," he nodded, beginning to stride toward the town. "But this vein has not ruptured in an inhabited area." A crystal formed smoothly with the twist of his wrist. Jareth tossed it, pleased to see Sarah capture the orb with barely any thought. "The Shadowed Pass is a place avoided by those who value their lives."

Inside the crystal an image formed. Jagged mountains towered on either side of the pass, laden with fresh snow. The rising moon caused it to sparkle like a million diamonds. It was a truly beautiful and serene picture, and Sarah frowned, finding no fault. Until the shadows began to shift.

"You see?" Jareth pointed grimly. "The lost souls of many worlds, undead and still searching for a piece of life to cling onto. And yet death calls, and warps them."

Sarah watched horrified as the shadows became more solid and grotesque. Terrible, mangled forms. Some humanoid, others beyond imagination. Quickly she thrust the orb into Jareth's waiting hand where it burst. "And we're going to fight them, aren't we?"

"If you do not want your soul to be sucked by one of them," he sighed, watching her cringe, "then yes."

"With what?" Sarah almost squeaked and looked down to her bare hands. "Where are the weapons you promised?" When he patted the pack on her back she shot him a disbelieving look. "What, in there?" Cautiously she bumped it against her spine, but it felt light, not at all full of protection.

"Take nothing for granted, Sarah," Jareth chuckled. "In the morning I will show you. Now remember," he said in a soft whisper, "they are not to know who we are. Try and blend in."

They had come to the edge of the wood. A small town was before them, looking curiously like an old English village. Cobblestone streets wound through the stacked houses with roofs of tile, sides of stone, and small lanterns lit with wavering flames. The sun was completely gone and the air was turning bitter. Everyone seemed to have retreated inside, where bright fires spilled cheery light out of the windows.

"This way," Jareth mumbled softly and wrapped her arm about his. Their boots clomped noisily down the deserted street. Wooden signs above the shoemaker's, baker's, and butcher's swung creakily in the slight breeze. Jareth stopped under one that proclaimed 'Blackwing's Inn' with a faded outline of a dark bird. It looked, Sarah thought, like a decidedly predatory bird.

Jareth pushed the heavy wooden door open and noise flooded the street. Inside was a picture of tumultuous misconduct, not at all different from his throne room. Drunkards were brawling and swigging, a few questionable ladies were entertaining, and the host looked a bit smashed himself. He leaned over the large podium to peer down at them and slurred, "What'll it be, gents? A drink, perhaps, to go with yer fine dinner, or cozy quarters fer the night?"

Sarah leaned a bit into Jareth when a large man chased a laughing woman around them and out the door. The whole place smelled of pigs.

"One room for the evening," Jareth replied smoothly. With one hand he placed a few gold coins upon the podium. "Your finest quarters, good sir."

The host looked momentarily taken aback, but studied the gold with fierce hunger. "Aye, of course. I'll be needin' to know yer name, lad."

Another coin bounced from his cloak and onto the podium.

"Aye, aye, privacy is a fine thing. If you'll follow me, then."

Just as they had started to walk around the podium and toward a rather rickety-looking set of stairs, a mob of rowdy men smashed through their wake. They seemed to be playing some sort of game where a ham was being tossed about, like a football, and Sarah was nearly mown down by their hustle and bustle. With a shriek one shouldered her roughly and the hood to her cloak fell away. Hastily she grabbed for Jareth with one hand and the hood with the other, but it was too late.

"Looky there, boys!" came a shout. "We haven't seen such a pretty piece of meat in ages!" There was a resounding cry of agreement as several of the men wandered between them and the stairs. Jareth's grip on her arm turned painful. These animals were large, burly men with scraggly hair and broad chests. Faint touches of fur adorned their clothes, better suited for the colder climate. Sarah abandoned her hood and took another step towards Jareth. "Much prettier than these broads," one roared with laughter and jerked his thumb to the room. The others seemed to agree, inching their way to the girl.

It was a shame they weren't drunk, Jareth thought with a sigh. Things were usually much easier when an adversary's senses were jumbled. "Let us pass," he said, dangerously soft.

The leader, a towering man, crossed his arms with a smile. "Not unless you hand over the girl. Then we'd be happy to let you pass."

"You misunderstand me," he returned with a growl. Still his hood remained up. "Let us pass, or suffer the consequences."

Sarah thought the stranger looked a lot like a bear, what with his matted locks and thick beard. Even his arms were covered in dark hair and bulging muscles. "Consequences? Who are you," he laughed uproariously, "a king?" One step was crossed and he leered down into Sarah's face. "Tell your traveling companion that you would rather spend the night with me, darling," he smiled. "If you're good, then you can enjoy the company of the rest of my men as well." The five or six others behind him chuckled darkly. Inside Sarah was slowly caving in to a panic attack. They were all so big...

"Enough!" Jareth snapped. "This is your last warning, you brute. Step aside."

"Brute?" The other man seemed desperately offended. Even if the term was completely accurate. "You sniveling little...that girl is nothing more than a skinny wench!"

Jareth's fist flew too fast for Sarah to even see. What she _did_ see was it contact solidly with the man's jaw, his spluttering face, and the way he toppled to the floor in a heap. His pack sobered quite fast and backed to the wall. Especially when their leader remained motionless.

"Yes," the Goblin King drawled, dragging the girl firmly into his side, "but she's_ my_ skinny wench. Now," he sighed to the host, "our room, if you please."

The rest of the tavern burst into sudden loud huzzahs. Apparently they had watched the whole thing unfold. Stepping smartly over the crumpled man, then swaggering slightly, the host gave a toothy smile and declared, "Good show!" In a jovial mood he turned and began lumbering up the stairs.

Sarah let Jareth pretty much lead, not trusting her jellied legs to make it. They followed the host to the end of a dusty, poorly lit hallway, where he brought forth a ring of keys. After several attempts he found the right one and opened the door.

"There ya go, best room in the house!" Once inside, he tossed the key to Jareth, who caught it swiftly and moved it into the folds of his cloak. "A good night to ya," he nodded, closing the door behind him.

With the snap of the door Jareth wrenched the hood from his face. "Are you alright?" he asked quickly. She only nodded before moving farther into the room. Not entirely convinced, he stripped the cloak and flung it carelessly over a nearby chair, then took a seat on the large bed. It creaked noisily. "Look in the pack. There should be extra blankets." Sneering, he lifted the covers beneath him in a gesture of disdain. "We are going to need them."

She arrested her digging movements in the sack once realization hit her. Sarah looked to an expectant Jareth, arms folded over his chest, before frowning. Bed. Singular, as in one. A quick look around the room told her the chair would make a horrid bed and there was no couch. Beside her a small fire flickered over dusty hardwood floors, and rugs were absent. "I am not," she muttered, shaking a heavy blanket in his direction, "sharing the same bed with you. Nuh uh!"

"Not even after what happened downstairs?" he smiled back. "Those ruffians could probably break down our door."

A hard throw of her arm sent the blanket hurtling at him. Sarah was angry that he caught it so easily. "Especially after what happened downstairs!" It was taking her mind a befuddled minute to remember through the terror. "Even if you did save me," she huffed, "I am _not_ your...skinny wench." Angrily she started digging for another blanket, not pausing to marvel at how all this junk could possibly fit inside. "I'm not your anything."

He was pulling off his boots and setting them by the bedside. "On the contrary. You are my Champion."

"No," she sighed. "I'm the Labyrinth's Champion. There's a difference." Her fingers brushed leather, and Sarah glanced down to the sketchbook. "I'm not your anything," she repeated a little softer. Shaking her head, she rummaged some more and pulled out the second blanket. The little bag of pills from Lyra was balanced on top. When she turned around, Sarah was startled to see Jareth settled comfortably on one side of the bed, hands pillowed behind his head, shirtless. Some of her resolve broke off in a hulking chunk. "What are you doing?"

"Sleeping," came the mumble. He never opened his eyes. "Put out the light and come to bed, Sarah. Morning will arrive too fast."

Her head fell into a hand with a smack. This could not be happening. A sideways glance at Lyra's bag made her wonder if two pills could bring a nice little comatose...

Eyes flying open in shock, her heart sputtered weakly at the traitorous thought. "Jareth...I'm thirsty."

Slowly he opened his eyes. "Really."

Slight snarl overtaking her mouth, Sarah settled a hand on her hip. "Yes, Goblin King, really. And we haven't eaten since breakfast."

He shrugged, then produced a gold coin from nowhere. "I cannot magic food or drink. But the host would surely see to it that his best guests are taken care of." Idly the coin flipped through his knuckles in a mesmerizing dance. "You do not care to brave the drunkards and whores below?"

"You can't always protect me, Jareth. I'm capable of getting my own drinks." Sarah made for the bed and snatched the coin out of his hand. "I'll be right back."

Jareth watched her go after setting down the blanket and discarding her cloak. The pouch of pills escaped him completely.

Downstairs Sarah did not feel so good about her choice. She found the host snoring under the stairwell, propped up on crates. After a few pokes to his cheek he awoke, took her coin, and returned with two very large glasses of ale and some bread. The drinks smelled foul. Rather quickly, not caring that some of it spilled on the way up, she retreated. Just outside the door she paused. In no way was this right, and she knew somewhere deep in her heart that Jareth had no intention of harming her. But a soundly sleeping Goblin King couldn't hurt...

Inside she found him rolled towards the window, back to her. In his palm rested a crystal. Brock was clearly relating something to him. Emily, Sarah thought sadly, setting the glasses and bread down on a lopsided table. Hurriedly she snatched the bag of pills from atop the blanket and extracted one. Just one. It was a clever little capsule, and with a twist the fine powder emptied into the first glass.

"Very good," Jareth was saying. The crystal burst with a nod and he rolled to his other side. Sarah was standing with her back to him in a comical pose, hands on hips, staring funnily down at two glasses of ale. "You needn't have troubled with one for me," he laughed. "I hear the drinks here are...questionable. You saw the crowd downstairs." His eyes closed, only to fly open at the nudge on his shoulder.

"Here," Sarah presented softly. He took the glass and glowered into the depths.

It had been a very trying day. Perhaps a little ale before bed would do him some good. Regally he raised his glass and clinked it against Sarah's. "Cheers," the Goblin King laughed.

She watched him raise it to his lips, too intent on her internal battle to notice the window creeping open.

* * *

_What will happen with the drugged ale? Who's at the window? Will Jareth remain shirtless?! I may just have another chapter waiting for you...lovely reviews could possibly speed up the posting process. ;) Your feedback continues to be wonderful! A big thanks to everyone who has stuck with the story for so long, and I promise that it will only continue to get better. Until next time!_

_E. Jane_


	10. The Wolves, My Love, Will Come

_Oh my...your reviews were nothing short of fantastic. I am only too pleased to present you with another chapter(which, yes, most definitely contains more shirtless Jareth...big surprise, I know). Have no fear-I know exactly where this story is going. I really hoped to get this installment out to you right after chapter nine, but did not want to disappoint, and worked on it until I was satisfied. After all...I want this story to live up to my reviewers' expectations. ;)_

_Enough of my mindless rambling! Read on!_

_E. Jane_

* * *

X

The Wolves, My Love, Will Come

"I want my own place," Sarah rushed abruptly.

Jareth stilled his hand with a jerk. The untouched ale quivered inside his glass, nearly spilling over the rim.

Outside the window, under the cool cover of darkness, Larimon's minion ducked beneath the sill. Expertly he clung to the stone walls and shadows. Waiting. Listening.

The Goblin King closed his eyes for a moment, trying to process the information. "You...what?"

Guilt was to blame, Sarah thought. Layers of deception were doing nothing for her peace of mind, especially when she had drugged her savior's ale for selfish reasons. "When our mission is through, I'd like to..." The pulse in her stomach was almost painful. She had never gotten around to planning exactly what she wanted to say. "What I mean is, I want a home of my own. Nothing fancy," she hastened, "just a simple cottage or something. Where I can take care of myself."

Quietly, too quietly for Jareth, he placed his glass on the bedside table. "Why would you want that?" Inside quick forlorn stabs were making mincemeat of his lungs, but he couldn't seem to become angry. The rage wouldn't surface as it had before. Only...gripping disappointment. "Is there something in the castle that upsets you?"

While it had never been her choice to return or reside in the castle, Sarah had found it a comfortable and pleasant living space. Besides the rowdy throne room, most of the place was inviting. The food had been delicious, her clothing exquisite, the staff kind. But her past would always haunt her there. Bit by bit Sarah would drown into the life Jareth had presented her with years ago and become the zombie queen of the Labyrinth. It was tempting, painfully so, but stubborn determination was winning out. "I've taken care of myself for so long," finally came the response, "and I guess it only seems natural."

Jareth stood slowly so that they were face to face, inches apart, forgetting the ale by the bedside. "When was the last time," he murmured, gently removing the glass from her fingers, "that you let someone take care of you, Sarah Williams?" Her foul drink ended up sitting next to Jareth's. It wasn't until he smoothed a hand over her cheek that she realized his gloves were missing. The contact was so gentle, so careful, that Sarah let him leave it there. "Why can't you trust the keeping of your heart to anyone other than yourself?" He watched her lean into his hand sadly, trying not to let herself become swallowed by emotions. Hesitantly he settled a hand on her waist.

That touch was a mistake. Sarah blinked and walked around the bed to the window. The cold air on her face was refreshing, coming in through one open side, shocking her senses back into icy reserve. Just outside the sill was a small flower box filled with swaying moonflowers, light pink against the dark. "My heart doesn't have anything to do with it."

There did not seem to be any way to make her relent. Painfully he thought of that morning, when they had shared the throne, and he let loose a crystal. It had floated down the hall to give orders for another room to be prepared. One where Sarah could entertain and visit with the wished-away children. Jareth had meant for it to be a surprise when they returned, something to make her happy, a thoughtful gesture on his part. She had no idea just how rare gestures like that were. The girl was self-sufficient, a fact he had loved all too well about her...until now.

'_Let her go_,' something pushed at his mind. No, that would never do, for losing her once had been terrible enough. Surely a second time would destroy him. '_Can't you forego you own desires for once_,' the voice continued, '_and make a sacrifice for the woman you love_?'

Sarah turned back around and was surprised to find Jareth's face a study in shock. "What's the matter?" she asked quickly, worried he had figured out what was in his drink. Although, he had never even tasted it properly...

The realization was electric, buzzing his senses and thoughts. So it turned out_ that_ portion of the story had not been a clever embellishment on his part, not something to lure Sarah into wishing away her brother. The Goblin King had definitely given the girl certain powers...because he was in love with her.

A ripping sensation devastated his chest as Jareth recalled the rest of the story. The girl had never returned the king's love. Hadn't she said it only moments before, that her heart had nothing to do with it?

She was starting to get a little worried. The odd look he was giving Sarah was not what she had expected at all. His thin mouth, beginning to turn down at the corners, the wide eyes darkening and hooded. "I will support you."

Shocked, she tried to grasp the meaning of his words. "You don't have to do that, I can make my own money. I'll..." Realizing her trouble, Sarah looked around frantically for a morsel to help her out. Her gaze landed on the flower box. "I can start a florist shop. There must be fields and fields of flowers..." She wondered off as he took a few steps her way.

"There are no flowers in the winter," Jareth said sadly. "They die with the frost and the cold will be unbearable. How could you keep yourself alive?"

Don't panic now, she thought fiercely. In his eyes was a streak of something, so close, that if she could convince him a little more he might give in. "I'll save every cent and grow my own food. Make my own clothes. It doesn't have to be an extravagant life," Sarah laughed, itching suddenly for some of Jareth's sarcastic humor. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? "There must be some odd jobs I can do during the winter."

The Goblin King looked over her shoulder to the moon, glowing heavy and round like one of his orbs, stars flecking the inky sky. "I will come to you every day," he promised softly, "and buy a fresh bouquet for my table." The breeze ruffled Sarah's hair, still a tangled mess, and then dropped it again. "The castle will feel empty without a part of you in it."

Something cried out in Sarah's chest that this was_ wrong_. Wrong that she should run away because she was scared of the life he was offering her, of her past, which was exactly her problem. Hadn't she wanted a new beginning to her fairytale? And hadn't he agreed? Then she had to go and twist everything around because she was a coward to her own feelings. Just like last time.

'_Everything that you wanted I have done. You asked that the child be taken, I took him. You cowered before me, I was frightening. I have reordered time. I have the turned the world upside-down, and I have done it all for you!'_

And she had never even cared that she exhausted him. Thrown everything back into his face. Defeated, humiliated, and rejected the only soul to ever offer Sarah her dreams. A strangled noise was rushing to her throat, watching him avoid her gaze, and she backed into the window sill.

From the reflection in the half opened pane, still only slightly ajar, the assassin could see the Goblin King turning his back on the girl. It was the perfect opportunity for him to strike. The glass was split exactly down the center of the window, like shutters, leaving the entire length of her back exposed. Logically he should take care of Jareth first, but Sarah was blocking his way... Strapped to his side was a dagger and several other dangerous weapons. He did not reach for any of them.

The yank on Sarah's hair only gave her slight warning, barely enough time to scream, before her spine bent painfully backwards and she had fallen out of the window. She careened over in the air and plummeted straight for the ground. Her hands were grabbing wildly for something, anything-

Thankfully a row of bushes cushioned her fall. Their room had only been on the second story, but Sarah groaned and looked up to the window in bruising pain. With a start she saw the figure poised like a spider right under the flower box. It was lithe, sinuous, almost nothing more than a shadow. Which was why Jareth nearly missed it.

"Sarah!" He leaned out the window with alarm before jerking his head to the side. The assassin's blade struck the metal frame of the window just as Jareth darted away, sparks flying from the blow. Hazily Sarah rolled out of the bush and onto grass. What a fall... She looked up just as the minion had stuck his head into the window. With a gasp she jumped to her feet as a glass of ale smashed against the frame, covering the assassin, and spraying shards of glass. A booted foot to his head followed before he went tumbling from his perch. The figure was swathed entirely in black, face and all, so that even against the bush he was hidden. Sarah scrambled farther into the small courtyard she seemed to have tumbled into. Wildly she looked around, hearing the bushes rustle, and frantically tried to find a weapon. There were none.

Jareth bounded seconds later from the window, landing first on a trellis woven with ivy. His movements were cat-like and fluid, but anger was written deep into his features, and Liuhath glinted sharply in his hand. Where had he conjured that from?

By the time Jareth had landed in the bushes, the assassin had already extracted himself and was moving Sarah's way. From his belt he wrenched several serrated disks and flung them her direction with the flick of a wrist. She missed them by a breath, darting behind a large tree. Each disk thumped solidly into the wood behind her head, thudding hard and fast, like her hammering heart. Limbs zinging with adrenaline, she reached to the ground and scooped up a small potted plant. Two pairs of steps were smacking the stone walk. Then the clash of metal on metal.

The Goblin King had never been so enraged. Sarah was nowhere to be seen, but the scoundrel before him had undoubtedly caused her fall. If there was even a scratch on her...

He swiped Liuhath at the assassin's neck with a growl, but the snake countered the attack by pulling a long dagger from his side. Again and again Jareth struck, years of swordsmanship behind him, but the stranger found ways to block and return every time. Still more odd, he pulled a second dagger from his back.

Dirty cheat.

They circled each other carefully, lunging forward just to have the other knock the opponent away. The assassin's blades were long and curved, swinging at the most clever moments, and often he would distract with one and charge with the other. When Jareth least expected it, he managed a clean swipe to his shoulder. He bit back the roar of pain and tried again to wound his adversary. Under the moonlight faint flecks of dark blood splattered the stone. Jareth's bare arm was dripping with rivulets of red.

Sarah held her breath as their deadly dance drove them closer and closer to her tree. Soon they were only inches from her hiding spot, but she remained concealed by leafy shadows.

Owl eyes were Jareth's advantage this night. Even without his flying form, he still had the uncanny ability to see clearly in the dark. Behind a tree stood Sarah, mercifully unharmed, and clutching a ceramic pot to her chest. It was with surprise that he struck out at the assassin the same moment the pot landed on the slayer's head.

Barely daring to breathe, Sarah jumped away from the splintering pot and shower of dirt, watching as the assassin crumpled on the ground. He only just missed landing on his own daggers.

Jareth darted around the tree without sparing his adversary a second glance. Quickly he moved the bewildered girl out from the shadows and into the open courtyard, away from the killer.

"I was just flung out of a window!" she breathed with belated shock. "And..." Sarah looked up into the Goblin King's panting face. "He tried to kill us!"

His eyes were too busy searching her body to register what she had said. "Are you hurt? That fall could have pulled something, broken something." Worriedly his free hand skimmed shoulders, back, waist. "You aren't dizzy, are you? If you hit your head-"

"Jareth!" she hissed loudly. The hand she had clamped onto his arm was warm and sticky, covered in blood. "You're hurt!" With horror Sarah stepped closer to examine the wound.

He frowned and looked down to his arm. "It's nothing but a scratch. Now come here and let me make sure you're alright."

"My God!" Ignoring him completely, she winced at the slice in his skin. "We've got to clean it off."

The assassin groaned low into the grass so softly they did not hear him stir.

"Sarah," Jareth whispered with some exasperation, "it will heal by the morning." Easily he tugged her back in front of him where the moon illuminated her features. Liuhath hung limp in one hand, his other wanting nothing more than to crush her to his racing chest. He didn't.

She had formed the protest on her tongue when she looked past his bleeding arm. The shadows flickered, and from his crouch on the ground the assassin sprang, dagger raised high for a plunge into the Goblin King's back.

Between one heartbeat and the next Sarah moved, almost in slow motion to her own eyes, and swivelled between Jareth and the attacker. The smallest of gasps turned into a full cry of pain as the blade cut her at an awkward angle below the ribs. Surprised at the move himself, the assassin stumbled and twisted.

Like in a dream Jareth watched Sarah fall away from him, even though he reached out a hand to catch her. On his other side the killer dropped his blade with an echoing clang on stone.

Liuhath flared to life in his hand, the amber glow sparking in his eyes. A snarl loud enough to drown out Sarah's cries tore the night air before he made a clean swing to the shocked figure in front of him. Blood sprayed the ground and the toes of his boots, but he feared that some of it belonged to neither him nor the assassin.

The pain was unbelievable. Sarah had never, ever in her entire life experienced so much pain. Blearily she gritted her teeth to halt the cries and clutched at her stinging side. No way could this be an ordinary cut, not a simple tear of flesh, for her very skin seemed to be in flames. Jareth's figure swooped over her, repeating her name forcefully, but she couldn't respond. All of her fingers were slick with the flowing blood. Her stomach plummeted and the hard earth turned soft, moonlight replaced with candlelight.

His words weren't reaching her. For some reason Jareth kept up a steady flow of reassuring mumbles, if only to calm himself. "He's finished, Sarah. We've got to stop the bleeding now," he informed her softly. Using every ounce of care he possessed, he transported them to their room and settled her on the bed. The wound on his arm, throbbing painfully, became less noticeable with her mounting gasps of anguish. "Here, love, let me see." Carefully he moved away her fingers to find a dark stain spreading over her blouse. A groan escaped his mouth. "Foolish girl, what in the Underground did you do that for?" His chest was crumbling to pieces inside, torn between being livid and petrified. Hastily he pushed up her shirt and grabbed for his own, laying carelessly at the footboard. A few quick rips and he had several long bandages. The gash was not deep, but long, and bleeding freely. Though he did not trust the sheets, it was all they had at the moment, and so he bunched several up and pressed them to her side.

A ragged breath wracked her body at the contact. Someone was whispering in her ear, she thought faintly...telling her to hold the sheet to her cut. She did, even though it hurt all the worse.

Loathing himself for leaving her side for even a moment, Jareth went to the center of the room and drew a crystal from the air. He thought, then tossed it high above his head. The delicate orb shattered and gave a quick burst of light. Hopefully those wards would keep any more unwelcome guests from intruding. Had he not been receiving updates from Brock earlier, he would have already seen to the magical shields.

He came back to the bed with Sarah's pack. Pulling the sheet away slightly, he could see the wound was longer than he had thought. It curved around to her back as well. Gently he brought her up to a sitting position and leaned her chin on his undamaged shoulder. "Stubborn idiot." Jareth did not know whether that should be directed more at himself or the girl. Carefully he held Sarah to him with one hand and pressed the bloodied sheets to the wound with the other. She was digging her fingernails into his bare chest unknowingly, but he did not care.

After some time the candle was nearly gone. Jareth was well aware that one arm was coated in blood and the other with Sarah's tears. She had been silent so long he thought her to be asleep.

But she was managing the pain well enough to stay in her right mind. Her nails released themselves from curling into his pristine skin, which smelled like summer wind. Somehow that helped a bit, to be able to feel him there. Maybe, just maybe, Sarah _did_ need someone to take care of her every once in a while.

"Jareth?"

He shifted a bit at her mumble. "Is it worse?"

She shook her head over his shoulder and dropped her hands to his waist. "How's your arm?" Startled at his sudden shaking, Sarah realized that he was laughing at her. When he did not stop she pulled back to look into his grinning face. "What's so funny?"

"I find it endlessly puzzling that you are more concerned for my health than your own. Especially when you are bleeding all over the both of us." Still smiling, Jareth pushed her back against the pillows. "Let me see if it has at least slowed."

It was bad enough to feel it, still achingly painful, but she didn't need to see it, too. So Sarah let Jareth handle the evaluation. "Is it bad?"

Lightly he drew a finger over her marred flesh but pulled away sharply at her wince. "Curious. Now that you are Fae, any wounds should knit themselves together rather speedily. See?" He presented his own shoulder, which, while still bloodied and torn, looked significantly better. "Yours is as fresh as..." His gaze became sharp. "That blade must have contained iron." Sarah watched him spring from her side and race to the window.

Outside the courtyard was empty. The dead assassin's body had vanished, leaving only red smears on the stone. Whoever had sent him was obviously cleaning up the mess and not risking a trail. Jareth shook his head and closed the window, making sure to latch it tightly. They could worry about that later.

Sarah watched him survey the night. There was blood all over his body, caked streaks of burgundy, even in his hair. And _still_J areth managed to look beautiful. She severely doubted that her state was the same. He came back and sat on the edge of the bed, going through the pack. A large blue jar came with his hand. "Your side needs cleaning and dressing," he commanded, then smirked when she opened her mouth. "Yes, yes, then mine." She was sure he only said that to appease her.

Concentrating, Jareth conjured a bucket by the bedside. Instantly it filled with water. "I thought you couldn't magic food or drink," Sarah thought aloud. She could have argued that he had formed a peach years ago...but it hadn't even tasted real. Simply an illusion.

"Water is an element of nature, and one of the purest forms at that," he said, dipping a cloth from the pack into it. After wringing it out above the bucket he brought it up to her side. "Hold still."

She had anticipated the sting, and still it hurt. But it was evident that Jareth was being as tender as he could. "Why is someone after us," she asked, hoping a conversation would dull the pain, "when the Fae can't die?"

The Goblin King stilled his motions for a second before returning to the task. "It is true that we cannot die as mortals do. Iron is a substance that lends a taste of mortality in the sense that a wound will not heal as quickly, and ingestion may cause a permanent comatose."

"That still doesn't explain the maniac down there," Sarah waved to the window.

"No," Jareth frowned. "It doesn't."

It took quite a while to finish cleaning and dressing Sarah's wound. Jareth was painstakingly soft with his movements and how tight he bandaged her side. Luckily Margaret had included a first-aid kit with enough supplies for the two of them, and the sheets could be moved into a pile on the floor.

"Your turn," she urged eagerly after Jareth had inspected her at least five times. It required help to sit up again, but Lyra's magic salves had lessened the pain. "Turn around." Cloth in hand, she wiped away the dried blood from his injury. The flesh had already sewn itself most of the way back together, leaving nothing more than a paper cut. Sarah didn't stop there, but kept wiping all the way down to his fingers, where traces of the battle still clung.

The nearness of her was almost overwhelming to Jareth's senses. More and more he realized how every move she made affected the pull of his heartstrings. Each breath on the back of his neck was tortuous. And the poor girl didn't even realize.

When Sarah returned the cloth to his shoulder Jareth covered her hand with his own. Without turning around he lifted it to his mouth and kissed the back lightly. "Thank you, Sarah."

Her chest and stomach flooded with longing. There was an unspoken apology hidden among his gratitude. Biting her lip, she barely contained herself from returning the gesture with a kiss to his cheek, his neck, his shoulder blade-

"You're welcome."

"I think I can handle the rest," he admitted while picking up the blue jar of salve. Afterwards he did not even bother with a bandage.

"We're still a mess," Sarah sighed to her ripped blouse.

Jareth turned and presented her with the pack. "I'm sure Margaret included spares in there someplace."

Sure enough, the maid had thoughtfully packed triplicates of everything they could ever need or want. Sarah was beginning to think this bag had belonged to Mary Poppins once. "Here," she said, tossing out the obviously male shirt and pants. Jareth caught them and changed with a snap of his fingers. She looked down to her own attire. "Er, could you..." she waved up and down at his garments.

"Of course," he nodded with another snap. Sarah looked down to pleasantly clean clothes. The other dirty wads of fabric were atop the bloodied sheets.

"Thank you." The simple phrase escaped her lips a tired, longsuffering sigh.

Jareth came to stand at the foot of the bed. He cocked his head to the side, not looking at Sarah, but at the wooden headboard. A third snap of his fingers and she felt the mattress shift slightly under her. Turning to look, and thinking she really must have landed on her head, she saw two separate beds. Blinking guiltily about her raving earlier, Sarah rose and retrieved the bread. Half went to Jareth and the other half to herself. It wasn't much, and she was still too shaken up to digest anything, but she forced most of it down anyway.

"We may still have a few hours worthy of sleep," the Goblin King said, removing his boots for the second time that evening. The shirt and gloves he let alone. He took the bed closest to the window, no doubt putting himself between the girl and danger.

Sarah did not think she could endure another sleepless night. Today had tried all of her brainpower and physical strength. A few hours of precious, dreamless sleep would be a blessing. Tiredly she moved to the lopsided table and extinguished the only candle. Back on the edge of her bed, she copied Jareth and placed her shoes on the floor. From under her blanket she could see his still form, stretched out lazily on the opposite bed, a few rays of moonlight glinting over him.

And the empty glass on the bedside table.

Jerking her head from the pillow caused Sarah's side to ache but she ignored it. "Jareth?" There was no response. Quickly she swung her legs over the edge and crossed the few feet to stand over him. "Hey, Goblin King!" Nothing. Not a twitch. Shit, he had smashed the good glass and drunk the other...

The last time she had seen him asleep was in a hard chair by her bed in an infirmary. Relaxed and under the influence of sleeping medication, he looked quite different. Innocent. Sarah was heavily regretting her decision to conk him out, even if was only for a few hours, but changed her mind as his chest rose and fell steadily. Jareth needed some good sleep.

She turned back to her own bed and stopped. In the dark it appeared stiff, cold...and lonely. Warily she turned around to the other bed. What would it hurt, if Jareth was slumbering? Surely she could wake herself up before he did. "Jareth, are you really asleep?" Sarah mumbled, bending down to whisper in his ear. Experimentally she patted his cheek. That only offered her the opportunity to feel his satin skin underneath her fingers, and, mesmerized, she could not stop from continuing over his eyes and down the other side. "Why does this have to be so complicated," she breathed, "when you're the best mistake that's ever happen to me?" A sad thing twisted in her gut, but Sarah knocked it away. "Now move over."

Of course he could not hear her, but she continued to talk as she climbed onto the bed at his back. "And no kicking in your sleep, or snoring, and if you push me out of this bed I'm going to smack you ten ways to Sunday." For some reason Sarah wished he was awake for this. Jareth would probably laugh his ass off. Thankfully there was enough room for the both of them. Swinging her arm over them, her blanket could cover everything but Jareth's feet. It was his own fault for being so tall.

Sarah left her arm where it was draped over his ribs. His heady scent was driving off the unwanted stench of the mattress, which smelled like rotten food. She was careful of her bandaged side and tried not to move too much. Jareth had taken great pains to clean it just so, and she wouldn't have his work going to waste.

"Maybe I'll live in the castle during the winter," she yawned. "I can teach the children then, if they don't already have school...you won't mind, will you, Jareth? There won't be bouquets for your table then, but we can find something else for the staff to decorate with..." No longer aware of her own rambling, Sarah buried her face into the side of his neck and left it there while she dreamt.

But what no one knew was that the Goblin King was a fabulous actor, and had found the clean ale quite refreshing. It was lucky that Sarah's hand was not splayed over his heart, or she would have felt his traitorous pulse speed considerably.

* * *

Morning dawned in sickly, unwanted rays of light when Jareth awoke. He was alarmed to find the sleeping girl huddled against his chest, curled into a little ball, and clutching fistfuls of his shirt. Of course he remembered falling asleep after some time of insomnia...every precious second of Sarah next to him was something to savor. But sleep had eventually claimed him, and Sarah had not taken flight from his side.

His arms had formed a protective cage of sorts around her still form at some point. Lightly he smiled to himself, surveying the picture of innocence beside him. Sarah was a creature of unrivaled beauty, fire, obstinance, and self doubt. The combination was ridiculously volatile. Even now she seemed to be dreaming, smiling wistfully into his collarbone. For a moment Jareth closed his eyes and let himself pretend that this was forever, that she loved him the tiniest fraction.

She had sacrificed her own safety for his last night. That blow to his back could have been permanently crippling if the iron blade had driven to his heart. Sarah would always have a long curved scar on her side to show for her bravery, he knew that, and he felt himself smolder with anger at his ignorance. He should have seen the assassin coming, should have saved her...

The least he could do would be to give her the only thing she wanted. Freedom. From what, specifically, Jareth did not know, but if it could win her trust he would oblige. Anything for Sarah. _His_ Sarah, no matter what she said or thought. The Goblin King would grant her any request that she made of him. All he wanted in return was a place in her life...to live within her...

Sarah stirred slightly and the spell was broken. Jareth knew it would only set things back years for her to wake in his arms, so he carefully ghosted his lips over her cheek before untangling himself. It was a fleeting touch that nearly shattered his delicate resolve. Still he slid from the bed and donned his boots and cloak before waving a hand over the pillow. The door he shut quietly, not willing to wake her, and turned the key in the lock behind him.

Rolling onto her back caused a twinge in her side. She had forgotten about the wound, which started a faint prickling ache. At least the pain was dull, Sarah thought, and made a mental note to thank Lyra a million times for her medicines.

Medicines. Sleeping pills...

Her breath clenched tightly in her lungs before she dared to open her eyes. She let it out in a harsh whoosh as her head turned to find the spot beside her empty. Damn it all, he had still woken before her. Wincing, Sarah sat upright and decided to give up being worried about whatever Jareth may have thought. Dodging around each other like this was beginning to give her a headache. And besides, he had been expecting her to share the same bed, anyway. Sarah shrugged and massaged her forehead. Sleeping with the Goblin King last night, however sinless, would be the first and last time.

That caused a self-berating smile to light up as she stretched. She had to admit that the scant hours of rest had been more rejuvenating than a full night in her tower room. Careful not to overexert her side, she turned and looked to the pillow. A tiny piece of parchment was laying on the place Jareth's head had rested moments before. Tenderly she picked it up. In a spidery, thin scrawl was written,

_Gone to find breakfast and other provisions for the remainder of the journey. May venture outside of the inn due to last evening's dubious display concerning food and drink...I want nothing to do with whatever the other guests have partaken of. Go back to sleep until I return._

_ J._

An appreciative snort escaped Sarah. Dubious display concerning food and drink indeed. He had no idea... She read the last sentence a few more times, thinking about how tempting more sleep would be. Jareth's void place looked all too inviting, and still smelled of his spicy scent, but Sarah wanted to be awake for when he reappeared. Besides... 'go back to sleep' was ringing deliciously in her head like 'come back to bed.' She was sure that would have been the case if Jareth was here in person.

Tapping the paper against her other hand, Sarah rose and went to retrieve her boots. While she pulled them on she pondered her mumblings the night before. Live in the castle during winter...teach the children... It sounded like an excellent idea to her. Frosty, poor, lonely seasons _would_be awful. If Jareth was not around, who would annoy and tease her to varying degrees of hysteria? But perhaps he was still wounded from her declaration of independence and wouldn't welcome her flip-flopping ideas. Winter was still a long ways away in the Labyrinth, and she could cross that bridge when she came to it.

* * *

The Fae and mortals were alike in their stupidity. Overcome by emotions and fear...often that could work to a demon's advantage, but this little excursion was taking a toll on his nerves.

He hungered for the taste of mortal flesh, something denied to him for eons, seeing as how the Underground had acted as a stable barrier between Hell and Earth. Occasionally a demon could slip through the cracks, but often perished. A steady flow of human life was needed to survive in any other realm than his own. To have the entire Aboveground at his fingers...oh, the exquisite horror. Larimon was a useful, if somewhat imbecilic, puppet. He had promised the High Chancellor complete dominance over the Underground. That was easy enough, considering that once the sword was destroyed he would possess the only means to seal the veins. The demon could technically bind them, if he wished, for he had certainly been the one to open them, but...

Watching a world flounder left a sweet taste in his mouth.

Moreover, even when every citizen was clamoring for Larimon to take action, undoubtedly offering him total rule as they did, the demon would still be able to manipulate things to his, well, tastes.

He might yet have two worlds, instead of one.

First, though, there was the problem of this Goblin King and his Champion. They were Fae and impenetrable to the darkness, so he could not kill them outright. Shame. Larimon's feeble attempt the evening before had been interesting, if laughable. To render them completely useless was most definitely his aim. They would tamper with his plot if left unchecked.

A little scare was in order.

* * *

Sarah had circled the room several times, seeing as how there was nothing else to do. She thought to rifle through Jareth's drawings again, just to look, but did not know if her own picture would mock her for it. Over herself she had thrown the cloak. It was chilly, the fire in the grate small, and Jareth's body wasn't beside hers anymore to lend warmth. They must definitely have traveled quite a bit northwards.

Scratching, twisting, grating noises came from the other side of the door. Sarah halted her pacing and backed to the bed, only to watch Jareth stride in with a sack. He smiled impishly and tilted his head to the side. "Good morning, Sarah. Sleep well?"

Alright, she deserved that. It had been her fault for climbing into bed with him. "Yes, thank you," she retorted with a smile. He stripped his own cloak and the sack before depositing his load on the table. The golden key to the door landed on top. Sarah blinked at it, then said, "You locked me in here?"

Jareth fought the wide grin that was threatening to consume his face. "No, I did not lock you in. I locked them," he chuckled, pointing at the floor, "out. Our host already has a slew of costumers breaking apart his establishment downstairs. Wonder they haven't set the place on fire." His face grew serious before asking, "How is your side?"

Gently she placed a hand over the cut spot. "Only sore. It hasn't given me trouble, or anything."

"May I?" He came to her side and parted the cloak when Sarah nodded. Bending on one knee to better see, Jareth lifted up the hem of her shirt. Carefully he peeled back a corner of the bandages and peeked inside. "Swollen from the iron, but clean. It will look angry for a few days...I'm sure Lyra can speed up the heeling process when you see her." They were quiet for a few moments while he continued the examination. "It was very brave of you," came a sudden whisper. Jareth chanced a look into Sarah's face as he reapplied the bandages. "Why did you do it?"

Her head flooded with the question. It escaped her that his other hand was also on her waist. "I..." Adrenaline? Instincts? "You would have done the same for me." That simple statement was laden with truth, and Sarah could feel it roll in the air between them. They might have a twisted, complicated relationship, but they each had enough sense of care. Enough not to want to lose the other.

His heart swelled a little before he pushed it back down. "Of course I would."

The door to their room flew wide open and their host barreled in like the hounds of Hell were at his heels. Blearily he looked around, either disoriented from a severe hangover or new intoxication, and barked, "Still here? I've got waitin' payers downstairs, so if yer stayin' I want s'more of that gold." The two froze and blinked like statues at the sudden intrusion. "If not, ya can get the rudy..." He seemed to take in their awkward position before squinting his eyes.

Jareth cleverly pulled around the cloak to conceal the bandages and rested his cheek on Sarah's stomach. "Forgive us, good sir, but my wife and I were merely delighting in the glory of our first child." He ignored the way Sarah's jaw dropped before nuzzling her bellybutton and looking up. "Isn't that right, darling?"

She moved her mouth and looked to the host. His glare was suspicious and wary, but nothing would come out of her throat. Instead she placed a hand atop Jareth's head and nodded.

The host frowned and crossed his arms. "Knocked up the lass, did ya? Well," he snorted, "the brat'll be a handful. That much I know." With a swagger he turned on his heel, muttering something about youth. The money seemed to have been forgotten for the time being.

"Goblin King," Sarah sighed. Nothing else followed as he rearranged her shirt and stood. Her tone was only slightly accusatory, and more resigned. The look he gave her was one of feigned innocence.

"Now, Sarah, it was a beautiful lie. That old goat was already angry at me this morning for demanding where the market was. Claimed his own food was good enough for the likes of me," he snorted. "No need to tell him the ruckus in his backyard last night was our doing."

"So people heard it?" she wondered. "Nobody came to investigate."

He began going through the new sack after shutting the door and locking it again. "Half the town was in a drunken stupor. I only suppose our host heard because he lives in that state full time. Somewhat immune to the effects of alcohol," he mused. "Or, at least can think around it somewhat."

Sarah shook her head. What little devils his real children would be, certainly a handful, as the host had said. The thought made her smile.

* * *

The demon had probed Larimon's soft head for the exact locations of the new rifts. His soldiers had done a fine job of finding a vulnerable spot for each separate kingdom. It started small, just a tiny crack from the Shadowed Pass, but soon it was spreading beneath the ground in all directions. In mere hours darkness would break free to the surface and begin to wreak havoc. And it had been so easy, too. The tallest mountain looming over the pass was more than a simple tower of rock...inside slumbered one of nature's deadliest threats. Darkness rode the streams of molten rock under the ground, flowing swift and carrying the terror. But the fools would never guess their troubles all stemmed from the same location. Patiently the demon waited for his work to be acknowledged, and could not help the cruel laugh at his own genius.

* * *

Fruit, cheese, meat, bread... Jareth had outdone himself at the market. It was a simple meal, but delicious, and Sarah found herself grateful that he had thought to venture out for food.

Full himself, Jareth stood and said, "We must travel soon. I want to reach the pass before sundown and survey the vein. It won't do to attack unless we have more knowledge of the situation." Sarah paled, remembering the shadowed undead, but he did not see. He had pulled forth the pyramidal prism from her pack. "And we can no longer avoid the matter of weaponry, especially after our visitor."

"What's that?" The prism caught light from the window and the tiny flames in the fireplace. "It looks like one of your crystals, only...triangular." Stepping closer, Sarah could see that inside the prism was cut like a diamond. Layers upon layers of clear substance made up a delicate, multi-faceted internal structure.

"This," the Goblin King presented proudly, "is your weapon."

Sarah looked up from the prism, then back down. "This? How?"

"Hold out your hands."

She did, and he placed the object in her waiting palms. Nothing happened.

Jareth circled her before coming to a halt at her back. "Close your eyes." When she looked over her shoulder with a disbelieving stare, Jareth only shook his head. "Close your eyes and listen to me very carefully."

This was silly...and yet Sarah felt a slight pulse under her fingers.

"I gave you a small amount of power, Sarah." She nearly jumped at the whisper in her ear. "Find it. Let it consume you. The object you hold is an ancient weapon in itself-it gives the owner the means to conjure the device most suited to his or her needs. It will use your power to determine what, exactly, you will best fight with."

"Amazing," she mumbled. What kind of weapon would this fantastical object bestow upon her? A sword? Daggers? Mace? Whip?

Oh, Jareth would love that one...

"Sarah," Jareth chided good-naturedly at her smile, "focus."

"Yes, teacher," she all but laughed. Ok, enough of that. Focus...

Something ignited in her core. It was a small, wavering something, but it made Sarah gasp all the same. The tingling sensation running through her limbs was warm and pleasant.

"Good. You've found it." He wasn't particularly surprised. Sarah had always loved magic, and finding the power within was a simple enough task for her. "Now, bring it to the surface. Push it into the prism."

Swirling sensations in her veins licked and jumped. Now that it was discovered, the magic wanted nothing more than to be let loose. Sarah willed it with all her might.

But it just wouldn't come.

She frowned in concentration before feeling soft leather around her own fingers. "Keep your eyes closed," Jareth warned. "I'm only helping to draw it out a bit. Channel all the energy you have into my hands."

Lightly her heart sped with the effort. All of that magic was building up, and now she could feel a slight pull from Jareth. No matter what she thought of, how hard she pushed, Sarah's magic seemed to hit a wall. Frustrated, she opened her eyes. "Jareth, it doesn't work."

Confused, he lowered their hands slightly but did not remove his own. "Odd. I can feel your magic there. But for some reason..." A frown tilted his mouth down before he placed a hand over her bandages. "It must be the iron. Some of it could have tainted your blood." Sarah spun around in the circle of his arms with a worried expression, but he said, "No, no lasting harm. A temporary block."

"Can't we break it?" she asked eagerly. She had magic, dammit, and she wanted to use it.

Jareth was thoughtful before a shocked tremor passed over his features. It was gone in an instant, schooled back to pensive calm. "We could...provoke it out." Fool, he scolded himself. This was not wise...

Turning back around, Sarah brought their hands up to her face. Every faucet of the prism had its own tiny rainbow, and yet was pure as glass. The depth was drawing her in, tricking her eyes. She felt like she was being swallowed by it. "How could we do that?"

Inwardly he groaned. "The same way I provoked your magic before."

Abruptly her illusion shattered and Sarah was standing stiff with the Goblin King at her back. One, just one little kiss. A quick peck. Nothing was going to happen if she let him. Tasting his exotic flavor would not send her reeling into a blaze of untapped, hidden things in the darkest corners of her soul. She wouldn't let it.

"Alright."

Resolutely she shut her eyes again, a bit forcefully. This was not personal...it was business.

"Sarah..." It wasn't right for him to do this, to indulge himself when she didn't want him. But she refused to answer. "Find your magic again," he whispered against her cheek. Slowly Jareth felt her relax into his arms. "Draw it out as far as possible."

She did just as she had before. The power came back with a startling vengeance, as if angered it had been discovered but not released. Her pulse was radiating through the tips of her fingers, almost bursting with magic, but it stayed contained. Lurching inside, Sarah's heart thrummed when Jareth touched his lips to her cheek. He continued to move them down, barely a feather's touch, toward her mouth.

His patience was tormenting her. Sarah was sure he wasn't doing it to her specifically, but the power's pulse in her fingers had reached a frantic level. Layers of jagged hair were sweeping her neck, and she tilted her face back to meet his at the last second.

The explosion of power inside wasn't something she had expected at all. Bolts and jolts of electricity were zinging, jumping from her and into the prism. In her hands it buzzed with magic to shift and warp. None of it was even computing, because Sarah was hopelessly lost to the figure behind her.

Walls could have crumbled, rivers turn to ash, the sky melt in flame...and neither one would have ever noticed. Sarah accepted defeat then and there. Already her lips had parted for more, for something beyond this gripping addiction, even stronger than magic. And her senses flared tenfold when Jareth complied.

He couldn't, shouldn't...did give in. Distantly Jareth heard Sarah drop her newly formed weapon to the ground and turn to him. Vaguely he was aware that he had pressed her into him so hard she moaned. Her deep, openmouthed, passionate kisses were driving him over the edge-

Sarah had realized that she was holding fistfuls of weapon when she would much rather be holding fistfuls of Jareth. Which was why his hair was knotted in her hands. It didn't take more than two steps before they had tumbled sideways onto one smelly, lumpy bed. Insane, she must be, otherwise she would not be trying to straddle a growling Goblin King. Ridiculously mad to admit that Jareth made her feel something new, strange, and horrifyingly whole.

The fire in her eyes caught him off guard. That blessed spark was there, the gleam he had waited thirteen years for...but she did not even notice. No, no, he wouldn't have this... Carefully he grabbed her wrists, but Sarah was not to be deterred. His restrictions were only causing her to move her mouth over his neck in ways that made his body more keen than his head.

Quickly, before he could no longer restrain himself, Jareth rolled and flipped Sarah onto her back. She looked up in a confused and bewildered, if not pleased, expression.

"No."

Her glazed eyes blinked once before she noticed the hard set of his jaw. She didn't understand. "Why?"

Because he loved her too much. It would kill him, Fae or not, to love first her heart and then her body, only to have her denial later. The tiniest, most breakable slant of love had been evident in her own eyes moments before. Jareth would not shatter it now, would not give in to selfish demands before she could find that love for herself. And admit it.

"Your wound is still tender," he sighed after a moment. It was a valid excuse, and still so hollow to his own ears. "And," Jareth smirked, working for a tad of his old self, "I am _not_ making love to you in this pathetic excuse for an inn."

Sarah almost snarled with the unfulfilled need. It. Wasn't. Fair. God, but she loved the way he was looking at her. "I see. Not good enough for you, Goblin King?" she laughed. "No sheets of silk or lighted candles-"

He halted her tirade with his own mouth. When he pulled away, Jareth looked like a man who had almost been promised the world. Almost. "No, because _you_ deserve those things," he purred into her ear. "Now up. Your dragon friend will most likely burn the village if we fail to find him soon."

Grudgingly she let him pull her off the bed. So close, and yet, he was right. Some part of her was glad. A small part, but enough of a conscience to wonder if she would have regretted it later. She hoped not.

Even more surprising was the object laying on the floor. "A bow?" she wondered aloud as she picked up the instrument. A quiver of arrows slumped nearby, feathered tips haphazardly scattered by the drop.

Jareth examined the weapon carefully. It was slender, made of dark wood, with a taught string. He watched as Sarah gave it an experimental pluck. "Have you been trained in archery?"

"Trained?" she snorted back. "Not unless summer camp counts. And a dangerous fascination for the sport..." Robin Hood had been a huge part of her life before she stumbled upon the Labyrinth. Jareth did not need to know that. "I remember most of my lessons."

He nodded and picked up the quiver. Moving slowly for someone who wanted to be on their way, he slid the entire thing, along with the sack of food, into Sarah's pack.

"Whoa, whoa, I can't carry all that!" she protested. Jareth ignored her and put the bow into the pack as well.

"My dear," he laughed, tossing her the bag, "I could quite literally stuff the dragon in there, and it would still feel as light." Amazed, Sarah felt that the bag weighed hardly anything. 'Magic,' she sighed to herself. She would love to see that...a dragon being stuffed into her pack...

They wrapped themselves in the cloaks and left behind the crooked room. On the way out the pair dodged several elderly men chugging fresh brews. The key Jareth tossed onto the host's podium, who was once again grinning goofily, and yelled after them, "Good luck with the brat! Yer gonna need it!"

"You don't think they recognized us?" Sarah whispered in the street. "He saw you this morning." Hurriedly they took an alley between the houses, avoiding the morning traffic.

"Love, he probably saw two of me with the amount of drink he consumed, and still could not conjure my name. No, I believe we are fine."

At the edge of the town they came to the beginning of the gnarled forest. Nearly hidden by shadow and color, the dragon poked his scaly head from between two trees. It swayed and blinked in greeting. Sarah acknowledged him with a pat to his neck before swinging herself up. She was surprised when the Goblin King climbed on ahead of her.

"Jareth?" Curiosity got the better of her, and Sarah decided it would be easier to ask questions now rather than later.

Quizzically he turned. "Yes?"

"Earlier when we...well, there wasn't any wind," she managed lamely. Stating out loud that she had practically jumped his bones would only solidify the reality of that act. "Before, back in the Labyrinth, we transported locations."

Jareth grinned roguishly at her colored cheeks. "We did not transport because I was helping to channel the magic. Under any other circumstance, we would have undoubtedly changed settings." Thoughtfully he tapped his chin. "Which reminds me...we must find a way to control your power. Otherwise, every time I kiss you we are in danger of landing in the Bog."

"Well," Sarah smirked back, "I don't recall any harm in _me_ kissing _you_." Her arms had already found their place low on his hips.

He sighed before shaking his head. "One of those loopholes, I'm afraid." His look turned reproving. "You did not even use all of your pretty mouth, and just the corner of my own, but I will stand for it no longer." With amusement Jareth noticed she was biting her lip to stave off any laughter. "No, only proper kisses from here on out. Understand?"

"Agreed," she nodded back. Once his back was turned again Sarah shook her head. She knew she had chased herself in circles, winding fate's thread over and under and around the both of them in a tangled mess. This would only tighten the strings until something snapped.

Sarah found, as Jareth covered her hand with one of his own, and the dragon gave a monstrous beat of his wings, that every fiber in the tapestry of the universe could unravel for all she cared.

_Free goblin to everyone who reviews! Er, only if you want one...I think Jareth just feels the need to get rid of as many as possible..._


	11. The Road to Hell

_First of all...wow. Your encouragement and continued support for this story is enough to make me cry(and then stay up ALL NIGHT to work like a mad woman on it, haha). Really, I'm so thankful to have all you loyal reviewers and fans. There was email from coming out of my ears.  
_

_My favorite part was probably the goblin names. They were shipped magically Aboveground, though there might have been an incident or two involving the bubble wrap and packaging peanuts. If they have somehow escaped, I owe all of you a large chocolate cake that Jareth pops out of. Fair?_

_I have finished this story, saved to my computer, so no worries about it never seeing completion. Not sure how long editing will take, but I love you all too much to torture you by witholding chapters. I am not _that_ evil. Ahem. Chapter eleven!_

_E. Jane_

* * *

XI

The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions

The Labyrinth had only received a small taste of the darkness days before. It had pried apart the rocks of the stone maze and bubbled to the surface, patient in its efforts.

Not now. The demon's new curse sent veins springing up all over the Underground. They ripped and tore at the earth, swallowing up unsuspecting homes, and the creatures were thrown into a dizzying panic. Rulers from every corner of the strange, magical world were ordering evacuations and sending distressed calls to the Goblin throne.

For many, it was too late. The Fae had some manner of protection with the light inside of them. Others were not so lucky. The centaurs, elves, gnomes, nymphs, dwarves, and countless others ran for their lives. Those that survived were horrified at the destruction and the continual loss of loved ones. Already a large number had been dragged beneath the surface to the bowels of Hell. Families were broken, lives destroyed. Seemingly normal parts of the earth quaked with the poison and dumb animals howled in grief.

Brock was going to throw himself out of the tower window.

Rulers had begun to demand that the Goblin King rectify the situation. Even now the veins were breaking off to ravage deeper into various territories, webbing the kingdoms under a strangling net. The citizens sought refuge in the inhabitable places, but those were fast dwindling. Monarchs were literally banging on the doors of the Labyrinth. And he could do nothing.

The goblins scattered at the chaos. It was more than they knew what to do with. Their stand-in king did not have the power to magic any of the rulers through the Labyrinth to the castle. Only Jareth had say in who was magically summoned, and all others were made to face the maze's trials. Now the crude joke was taking its toll. A select few attempted the run, but gave in and retreated in a rage. Most did not make it past the outer walls. With mounting dismay Brock relayed his predicament and returned their letters, clearly stating with a heavy heart, that he had absolutely no power to bind the veins. That task fell to two alone, who were already engrossed in a journey of the same nature.

Their response was nearly riotous. Fear quickly morphed into twisted, misplaced anger. Creatures of every race imaginable could no longer be contained by the scattered rule of their kings and queens. They wanted action, and they wanted it now. Only one option was feasible.

Appeal to the Council.

* * *

The crystal that materialized in front of Jareth's nose startled him enough that he nearly toppled from the dragon's back. He had given Brock temporary powers to form and send the orbs, but only under the direst of circumstances. "Brock," he barked, "what is it?"

"Majesty, forgive me," the general bowed. Behind him a number of goblins could be seen rolling and tumbling about the throne room. "An emergency situation has occurred." Jareth noted that his stand-in seemed terribly pale.

"Well?"

"There have been a reported..." He glanced down to consult a piece of parchment. "Seven new dark veins. All in scattered locations throughout the Underground."

"_What?_"

It was Sarah's turn to nearly lose her seat. So far she had not even been aware of the conversation, blocked by the fierce wind. "What? What is it?"

"You majesty, all the kingdoms have very nearly collapsed from the destruction. Homes are ruined, the citizens cannot be restrained. They have all marched for the Isle."

"The Isle?" Jareth shouted incredulously. "What do they think Larimon can do for them? He has no power in this matter, however badly he wishes it," came the growl. "What of the rulers now? Have they already retreated to their respected hovels?"

"I'm afraid many of the rulers, after losing control over their subjects...fled Aboveground." Brock's face was apologetic, as if all the blame belonged to him. "There was nothing I could do to stop them."

"The cowards." He ignored Sarah tugging lightly on his cloak.

"Jareth, what's wrong?" She still couldn't hear anything, nor see the crystal, but the Goblin King's back had turned rigid with anger.

"They demanded that you leave the vein in the Shadowed Pass," the general continued, "as it is uninhabited. If you could bind the lesser veins in the kingdoms, then the one in the pass could be dealt with afterwards. I told them that it would be an unwise idea."

"Yes," Jareth mused. "I don't understand how seven veins could break through so quickly, in rapid succession. Never in recorded history has there been such an outbreak."

"I have wondered the same thing, your majesty."

Sighing, Jareth whistled before the dragon swept down into a descent. "Thank you for alerting me, Brock. I will contact you once a plan has been formed."

The general nodded and the orb burst.

Spiral upon spiral they descended until the dragon touched down lightly atop a hill. Ahead mountainous outlines could be seen against the grey sky. Clouds hung like stretched cotton, blocking any trace of blue or sunlight. The air was frostily silent. Sarah watched Jareth practically jump from the beast's back before pushing a windblown hair behind her ear and following. "Something's wrong." It was not a question. His eyes were hard, smooth jaw set. All of his motions jerked as Jareth began a steady pace from the dragon's snout to her, then back again.

"Brock has just informed me of new ruptures. Multiple dark veins."

"Multiple?" Sarah blinked. "How many?"

There was the slightest moment of hesitation before he continued his pacing. "If we include the vein in the Shadowed Pass...there are eight." Behind him the cloak flicked in irritation with each turn. Sarah gasped with the information, drawing her own cloak tighter in the chill, but he never noticed. "How could this have happened...it doesn't make any sense. There's no way the layer of magic separating Hell from the Underground could have been breached in so many places. Not simultaneously."

Sarah worried that the ground would begin to spark with Jareth's agitation. Not to mention the friction his boots were wearing on the thin layer of grass. "What can we do?"

"Do?" he laughed. "Do...we will exhaust ourselves chasing down every blasted rupture in the Underground." Abruptly the Goblin King stopped and looked heavenward. The dreary sky offered no advice, only an infuriatingly calm breeze. "No, I am not being logical. Something must have triggered the veins...so many..." His rambling had turned to muttering, and Sarah withdrew to the wings of the dragon. Its large body acted as a nice barrier to the cool wind. Seeing Jareth this way was like watching an animated child worry over a puzzle. You could tell it enthralled him, no matter how aggravating. "There has to be a link, an explanation..."

An unexpected surge of excitement coursed through Sarah. Maybe it was her love for adventure, or a challenge, deflated for so many years Aboveground. The opportunity to finally play the heroine was fast becoming one of her favorite parts of living Underground. More than that, though, was a nagging sensation in the pit of her stomach. It could take weeks, months, even, to bind eight veins. Months that she had alone with Jareth, without having to choose between the castle or a cottage, without conflicting emotions.

Although, as of now she felt dirty. It had been quite a while since her last bath. They had been attacked, traveled, and spent the night in a smelly inn. Every hair on her head felt as if it needed to be chemically sterilized. On the way down Sarah had glimpsed a small stream, perfect for a quick wash. "Jareth?" He continued on to himself, oblivious. "Goblin King!"

With a start he jerked from his thoughts and halted his pacing. "What is it?"

"I'm going down to the stream to clean up. I"ll take the dragon with me," she rushed, seeing his face harden with trepidation, "and I'll yell if I need you." Obviously he needed some time to muddle through his perplexing self-debate anyway.

Curtly he nodded and continued his pacing. "Don't take too long. The water is most likely frigid." She nodded and gave the dragon a light pat on the neck, motioning toward the stream. "And Sarah."

For a fleeting second their gazes locked before Jareth's eyes softened. Quietly Sarah nodded a second time and turned away, trying unsuccessfully to hide the smattering of warmth on her cheeks.

Once she had disappeared down the hill Jareth mumbled a quiet, "Be careful," before resuming his stride.

* * *

It was only a matter of minutes until she reached the small stream. Around the bank grew clumps of wild looking trees, skinny, and full of green needles. The air was spiked with a clean, sharp scent. Ever curious and restless, the dragon meandered a ways down the bank, sniffing up into branches that harbored some critter. After rummaging through the pack, Sarah retrieved a coarse towel, clean garments, and the blue jar of salve. Her wound was most likely beyond the time for redressing. A few bandages found their way atop her garments.

While her hand was in the bag, it closed around a small pouch. She pulled it out to see the same one Lyra had given her. Frowning, Sarah opened it up and peeked inside. It was stocked full of the capsules, individual packets of sleep, and a wave of guilt nearly strangled her. "Sorry, Lyra," she sighed, upending the open pouch over the stream. Each pill bobbed as the current carried them away around a bend. "You probably took a lot of time to make those. But I'll manage."

Stripping in a foreign, unguarded place was an action Sarah was loathe to take, but she felt so grimy... Within minutes her garments were folded neatly on the pebbled bank. Hesitantly she dipped a toe into the water and barely contained her yelp of surprise. "Dear Lord...he was right." Grumbling to herself, she muttered, "Why can't my magic do anything useful? Well, besides forming weapons, but that took some help." Down the bank the dragon dipped its head in agreement. Or maybe the critter in the tree had shifted. "I wish the water was warm," Sarah huffed while wrapping her arms about herself, "so that I could take a decent bath. Who knows how long it'll be before I get another opportunity?"

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Sarah felt the ground shift beneath her. The movement was slight, hardly noticeable, and yet faint curls of steam could be seen rising from the water. "No way." This time she plunged her entire foot into the stream. "Wow...I..." Stepping into the flow of water, Sarah marveled at the improved temperature. In the back of her mind a red flag had risen, telling her she was a foolish git, especially after her experience with the words, 'I wish,' but the water was too nice. It took everything in her power to summon the will to go back ashore and retrieve the soap before sinking farther into the current.

* * *

A thin line of grass had turned into worn dirt. Jareth's boots trod the same place time and time again, turning into an anxious rhythm. Out loud he continued to mull over the situation.

"Not in any of my teachings...eight...a link...incredibly fast..."

He was well aware of the rules of the darkness. Evil was not attuned to magic, and never had been. One reason that Hell's inhabitants fared so well Aboveground was due to the purely human energy. Nature, something with human and magical elements, was often used to the advantage of both Hell and the Underground. Jareth saw the new veins as a kind of spreading infection, a disease, but the wind could not carry it. Nor could the water. So how had it swept his world so quickly? No answer came to him, and the Goblin King remained helplessly baffled.

"An element of nature that could be molded to extend the darkness. If that is true," he mused, turning on his heel to stalk in the other direction, "then there must be a point of origin. But where?"

A muffled shriek struck his ears through the still air. Instantly every muscle in his body tensed with mounting adrenaline, that cry was familiar...

* * *

Unbelievable. Simply amazing. Sarah's mind was having difficulty just processing it.

The light had started as a trickling glow through the scruffy trees. White, intense, so pure it had almost blinded her. Her surprised scream was only expected after the previous attack, but quickly turned into a gasp of wonder. For before her was no threat, no harmful monster with razored claws. In front of her was another childhood fantasy brought to life.

Gracefully the unicorn moved into full view on the opposite bank. Its coat was a shining pearl, making the flowing mane and beard almost indistinguishable. The cloven hooves stepped lightly to the water's edge, the horn's steady glow fading to a dull illumination, and it nickered a soft greeting. No storybook could ever have depicted the glory that Sarah saw before her. This unicorn was more than a simple horse with a horn...it was fantastical, chimerical, ethereal. She found herself rising out of the water with great care, not wanting to scare it away. If she could touch it-

Crashing leaves and brush caused both figures to spin before Sarah ducked back into the water. The noise was thunderous in the still atmosphere, and Jareth sprung onto the bank, skidding pebbles in his haste.

"Sarah!" he said loudly before his gaze widened. She returned an equally loud, "Jareth!" and wrapped her arms about herself with a splash.

"What are you doing here?" Sarah continued, her voice rising with every syllable.

Jareth blinked, gaze flitting to the unicorn. It seemed he was at a loss for words until he bellowed, "Damn it, Sarah, I thought something happened to you! Yelling like a banshee!"

"I'm fine! Go away so I can finish my bath!"

The magical creature watched the words fly with only the flick of its lion tail. Never did it betray an ounce of fear at the outbursts. Quizzically it watched the heated, if somewhat comical, exchange. Down the bank the dragon sniffed the air, turned, and sprung into the sky.

"You astound me," Jareth snorted, walking toward the bank. "The most innocent creature in the entire Underground caused you to panic." He folded his arms. "And running me off so soon? This morning you seemed all too..."

Confused, Sarah watched as his face turned from sarcastic to bewildered. His mismatched eyes darted between the girl and the beast. A little irritated, she snapped, "What?"

"You..." Jareth mumbled. "Sarah. No one can lure a unicorn except-"

"Yes, yes, I know," she sighed. God, didn't he remember she had read every fairytale book ever written? "The unicorn is only tamable by a virgin maiden. There, I am familiar with my magical creatures. So leave already?"

She did not fully comprehend the value of her words. Jareth felt a swell of elation. It had never occurred to him the amount of jealousy that one soul could possess, but the thought of Sarah intimate with any other man sent his mind reeling into a blind fury. There was so much relief...

He realized that _had_ there been any others, they would be marked men. Deceased within the hour. The Goblin King would be damned if he was not her first, her last, and her only.

Ignoring her urge for his departure, he said, "The horn can heal wounds."

Sarah peered down to the water that was hiding the rest of her body. "Even one by iron?" She looked up to find Jareth nodding. Thoughtfully she bit her lip and glanced at the beast. It wasn't that she was self conscious. No, Sarah had had enough practice with exposing her body. But...this was _Jareth._ Fine time for her modesty to show, she reprimanded herself, especially after her passionate impulse hours before. "Turn around."

"Turn around?" he repeated. A small frown graced his mouth. "What for?"

"Well, if you aren't going to turn around, then magic my clothes on!" she sighed. Sarah refused to be bare in front of those haunting mismatched eyes, unless he was stripped as well. It was only fair.

"Absolutely not. You'll catch hypothermia from wet garments." Was that the hint of a twinkle in his eye? The curl of his lip?

The authoritative tone was enough to make her growl into the stream. "Goblin King, the water is warm as Hades. And don't you have a drying spell?"

For the first time Jareth noticed the wisps of steam rising from the water. "This stream flows straight from the mountain. Melted snow would be like ice," he argued.

"Well," Sarah shrugged, "I fixed it. Clothes?"

They were going to have to have a talk. Jareth never expected for Sarah to tap into other areas of her magic so easily, nor had she been informed of the consequences that often came with a spelled action. But right now she was being particularly stubborn. "Very well." He only hoped that nothing drastic had been affected by her whim for warm bath water. A snap of his fingers had the girl dressed in the garments previously lying on the bank.

Familiarizing herself with the weighty movement of wet clothes, Sarah pushed the hair back from her face and waded closer to the opposite bank. The unicorn had waited for her attentions and lowered its muzzle to her face. "Hello," she mumbled softly.

Jareth studied the water with fascination. How in the Underground had she managed that? Usually it took the shifting of some other force-concentrated sunlight, the like-to warm such a large amount of water. Today, though, the sun was hidden. Then...

Flashes, snippets of his education long since past, tumbled through his mind. Maps, texts, lectures. "Sarah Williams!" came the shout, and she twisted clumsily in the water, outstretched hand inches from the unicorn. A startled yelp escaped her as Jareth bounded into the stream and crashed to her side. "You beautiful creature, you've solved all our problems!" he laughed before grabbing her waist and lifting her into the air.

"What are you talking about?" she yelled over the noise. Gently he placed her back into the stream.

"Don't you see? This water," he smiled, splashing her with a sprinkle, "did not just simply turn warm. Something heated it. And that," Jareth pointed into the distance, "is not just a mountain. Sleeping, inside that giant slice of rock, is a dormant volcano. Ha!"

"That's great," Sarah nodded warily in his arms, "but how does it solve our problem?"

The unicorn pawed at the bank and flipped its mane. Neither seemed to take notice of its impatience.

He shook a few dripping locks out of his eyes. "The fact that every volcano bleeds rivers of molten lava beneath the ground is vastly significant. It is the only possible way that the darkness spread so fast...the vein in the pass must have leaked to the other ruptures. If we can bind that vein," Jareth pointed, shifting her weight to float against him in the water, "then we bind them all."

Jareth would always amaze her. He never failed to unravel the fuzziest of riddles. She guessed that living for several centuries could give someone that ability. "Great." There went months of the Goblin King's uncompromised company. Her tone sounded flat, so she repeated, "That's great," with a bit more enthusiasm.

"I would kiss you right this instant," he admitted archly, "if we wouldn't wind up on the other side of the Underground." Reluctantly his arms sent her afloat in the water, and he nudged her toward the shore.

She could not let her disappointment smother her duty. Who was she to put her selfish desires over the entire Underground? Of course this was a good thing. Shaking her head, Sarah turned once more to the unicorn.

Jareth's euphoric moment dissipated into an icy calm. He had not noticed the unicorn's eyes before now, how dark they were. "Sarah."

The velvet snout was only inches from her fingers. To finally stroke the pristine coat of this wonderful beast would very nearly make her life complete. She laughed inwardly to think of the stories she might have told Toby. Maybe, one day-

"Sarah." His voice became more urgent. The unicorn was near to kneeling in its effort to close the space between it and the girl. Barely making a sound, Jareth reached out and settled his hands on her waist. "Back up. Now." In spite of his slight tug she resisted and stretched her fingers a little more.

Unicorns were supposed to have eyes deep and blue as the sea. Not cold obsidian orbs. Jareth's blood turned to ice. It was not possible that the darkness had already infected beasts in the surrounding area...was it? As if to answer his question, the shadow in the creature's eye deepened and spread until its coat became a dull grey.

Sarah blinked and the unicorn seemed less...pure, somehow. Gradually it was becoming darker and darker, shading the mane and beard as well. Pulling her hand back, she was startled into Jareth when the beast snorted and snapped its teeth. The barest hint of wild fang could be seen, sharp and hungry. On its head the horn's glow flickered and died. This was not right... Jareth took a step, she took a step. He took another, she took another.

The horn fell away with a dull thud to the ground, a long crack snapping it in two. The coat streaked with deep, dark black. It reared on its legs with a scream, hooves tearing at the air, and Sarah let Jareth drag her from the water. Hastily they scrambled onto the other bank while it paced in agitation.

"What just-" she started, but Jareth silenced her with one hand and looked down the river.

"Where is that dragon when you need him?" he swore. "We've got to get out of here before..." A string of expletives followed as they watched the unicorn toss its head and jump into the stream.

She nearly swore herself at the yank on her arm. Before she knew it they were hurtling through the trees at breakneck speed, jumping logs, the twigs and brush scratching like claws. "I don't understand!" she panted. The wet clothes were sticking and weighing her down. In the distance pounding hooves could be heard. Gaining on them.

He stopped with a jerk and pulled Sarah to a tree. "Get up," he commanded. "It won't be able to reach us, and until that dragon shows we cannot travel, especially not on foot." Even calls sent through his pendant could not make the dragon come, probably due to the power of the dark vein so close at hand. No doubt the tainted unicorn had run him off in the first place.

Sarah was not fond of climbing trees. Reluctantly she accepted the boost Jareth offered and hauled herself up onto the lowest branch, something the girl had not done since her fall from an oak at twelve. She only made it up three before deciding enough was enough, and settled herself tightly on a wonderfully sturdy branch. Jareth joined her with a feline-like leap.

Underneath them the dark unicorn grumbled a neigh of displeasure. A few times it circled the trunk, tossing its black mane in anger, before snorting and trotting in the opposite direction.

"What was that about?" Sarah frowned.

"Our situation may be more dire than I at first thought," Jareth admitted. Carefully he settled in the tree, watching the girl farther out on the limb. "It seems that the vein in the Shadowed Pass is more destructive, enough to trick and lure even the most intelligent of creatures." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "The sooner we bind the darkness, the better."

Thoughtfully she looked to the ground. It seemed unbearably far away, and she calculated that a fall would result in several painful injuries. "Why didn't you use Liuhath to..." How could she say it? "Take care of the unicorn?" A few droplets of water splatted from her dripping clothes onto the dirt.

The Goblin King shook his head and twisted his wrist. In the branch above him appeared the pack. "Using Liuhath would alert the darkness to our presence. While likely that it has already sensed us so near, it would be best not to take any unnecessary actions."

"And the dragon's alright?" Sarah wondered aloud. If the vein could take a unicorn, surely it could take her scaly friend.

"Yes," Jareth chuckled, "I believe the coward smelled danger and took flight. Dragons have a rather large sense of self-preservation. We probably will not find him until the sun rises again."

"It's gotten colder." Of course the dripping clothes did not help, but the wind in the trees had escalated. The dying sun couldn't penetrate the clouds, let alone the foliage. "We should get down and start a fire."

Remembering himself, Jareth waved a hand and the pair was dry. "We cannot camp on the ground tonight, Sarah. That unicorn is probably not the only beast to be infected."

Frowning, she turned to see him better on the branch. "Not camp on the ground? How will we sleep?"

It was very difficult for Jareth not to smile openly at his good fortune. Easily he reclined against the tree and stretched his legs along the branch.

Blinking, Sarah took one look at the Goblin King and said, "No. _No_. I can't sleep in a tree," she hissed. "I'll fall over in the middle of the night and break every bone in my body!"

"Sarah," he purred, "come here." Softly he patted the spot between his knees. "No use arguing, love."

Oh, that wicked, wicked Fae... Grudgingly Sarah scooted down the branch and leaned back against Jareth's chest. "Don't you dare let go of me," she muttered as he put his arms around her. Gingerly she stretched out her legs as well, testing the branch.

He bent his knee on one side before mumbling a soft, "Never," into her hair. Magically a blanket unfurled from the pack and floated down to cover the pair. The world was thick with dark shadows, the sun leaving behind a waning moon to stand guard over the night. Slightly ashamed at her own school-girl hormones, Sarah was glad for the lack of light when she leaned farther back into him. Underneath her Jareth sighed a deep, heavy breath. "Never."

* * *

The Isle had always been home to one thing and one thing alone. The House of the Council was a structure of grand stones and windows, a rather elaborate affair, situated on a tiny spit of land in the ocean. Its location had been ideal for means of both seclusion and mystery, things unanimously agreed upon by the esteemed members. Every kingdom had appointed a leader to sit at the semicircle table and enforce a somewhat common law. While not binding, and merely a base for suggestion of improvement, the Council had quickly grown corrupt with mounting power. It was not long before it had its own army and a will strong enough to compel even the most stubborn of rulers.

And, until this day, not a soul had challenged them.

Every inch of shore was covered in vessels. Creatures from each kingdom had stormed onto land and marched to the heavy doors of the dwelling. Loudly they banged, screeching for counsel, for help...

Larimon had not expected his master to act so swiftly. Nor had he thought to escape punishment for his assassin's failed attempt. The mistake would not be repeated. Donning his most exquisite robes, he flung wide the windows from his tower room. Below the mob swarmed to better yell up at him. Cries for deliverance, of their plight, fairly made his ears bleed.

"Citizens of the Underground!" he called. Immediately the crowd fell silent. "I have received word of your heartache and destruction. Tell me...where are your rulers, so that we might formulate a plan to regain control of our world?" Only shouts of abandonment followed. Of course, Larimon already knew all that had happened. He found that it helped to tap into the emotions of a mass, particularly when persuasion was the main goal. For a second the Chancellor let a clear streak of pain and fury mark his features before visibly pulling himself together. "Now hear this! Loyal inhabitants of the Underground, you will not be forsaken! The time is dark, but our hearts are not. I will contact the Goblin King and demand he control the situation. Did his forefathers not succeed in the same task?" An appreciative murmur followed. "In the event that he and the Labyrinth's Champion are unsuccessful, I will personally take on the responsibility of binding the veins. There will be hope this day!"

Loud cheers nearly caused the ground to quake and the water ripple.

"And have no fear of wayward kingdoms. Your rulers may have shown true cowardice towards your people, but has the Council not always shown honor to our duty? Each respected kingdom will once again have order, and homes, and we will mend the broken pieces of our lives."

Chanting swelled from the heart of the crowd until it became a monstrous roar. Calls for celebration and praise of the merciful High Chancellor.

He could taste the title of Emperor on the air.

* * *

The light thrumming noise beneath her ear was a steady, musical beat. Sarah found that she enjoyed listening to it. A small sigh escaped her at the warmth and comfort, and she snuggled farther into the softness. It even smelled nice here, with the scent of the outdoors mingling with an alien spice. Yes, she could sleep for a very long time.

"I have been thinking."

Underneath her head the warmth shifted. The thrumming became more distinct. Thinking? It was too early to think.

"Jareth, go back to sleep."

A gloved hand smoothed the hair away from her neck. "What would you think of a greenhouse behind the castle? You could grow anything from the Underground or Aboveground that your heart desired." The lips so close to her ear tickled, so she turned her face toward the teasing breath. Before her was a fuzzy tangle of blond when she opened her eyes. "That way you can work year round."

"If I say yes," she mumbled into his shirt, "will you let me go back to sleep?"

The chuckle would have tumbled them both from the branch had the Goblin King's hold not been so firm. "Only for a little while." His voice turned serious. "Eventually we have to face the day."

"No," Sarah yawned back. Her arms tightened a bit over his own. "Don't leave me until the sun comes up."

"Leave?" She felt his chin rest on her shoulder and a cool cheek press into her neck. "I never said I was leaving."

* * *

Finally the goblins had been banned from the throne room. Brock needed some quiet to himself while he waited for Jareth's call. Being a general, he delighted in plans, and bumbling blindly into a situation caused him immense panic. He did not like the way things had gone, not at all, and waiting helplessly was worse. The entire thing was a mess. How had this happened? Dejectedly Brock rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. The Underground had been thrown into anarchy...darkness crept ever closer...his king was not to be heard from...

"Brock."

Snapping his eyes open, the general rushed with relief to the throne where an orb was hanging.

"Majesty," he sighed. "Thank goodness."

In the orb a rumpled Goblin King could be seen leaning against a large tree. Behind him was the girl, clearly lecturing the dragon. "Go to the library. I need you to confirm something for me."

"Certainly." Swiftly he grabbed the orb, then reappeared amidst the shelves of books.

After several minutes of digging, flipping, prying, and sneezing, Brock brought forth a dusty volume. Pages threatened to tear loose with his gentle turning. "Here it is, a map of the mountain range. Yes, the Shadowed Pass is marked." Carefully he turned the orb over the yellowed page, letting his king observe it.

"And you are sure that each red mark is a river of molten rock under the ground?"

"That is what the key says, your majesty," Brock nodded, tracing the spidery lines with a finger. There were quite a few.

"Brock, listen carefully to me," Jareth instructed. Speedily he conveyed his theory to the general. With relief Brock slumped against the table the text rested on. "Send messengers to every kingdom and village in between. I want them to know there may be hope yet."

"Right away!" he sighed happily. For the love of the Underground...the stress felt a bit alleviated.

As soon as the orb was gone Brock bounded to the doors of the library, silently calculating the number of messengers he would need. In his haste the shadow behind the tapestry was overlooked, and the knife at his throat was unavoidable.

"Now, now," a snake-like voice hissed into his ear. A painful twist on his arm nearly sent the trained warrior to his knees. "No need to involve my iron blade. But we cannot have the Chancellor's plans go amiss." Struggling slightly, Brock winced at the tiny slice the knife caused his skin. "You know," the voice continued, "the Goblin Kingdom is the only land without representation on the Council. Should you be willing..."

"Never," Brock spat. The powerful figure behind him caused a shooting twinge in his back. Above all things, the general was a loyal soul. "Go to He-"

A sickening slice preceded the thump of a motionless body on the wooden floor. "Then you shall be the first from the Goblin Kingdom to taste death." The dark figure, nothing more than a vague shadow and tricks of light, knelt by Brock's head. "Oh, yes, the Fae can die, I assure you," he laughed. On the floor blood pooled, the general's wide eyes flickering with questions. "For eons the proper methods have merely escaped your knowledge." With a sweep of his black cloak Brock disappeared, leaving the quiet library empty.

* * *

The sun was once again elusive that morning. Thankfully they awoke a second time to find the dragon curled contentedly around the trunk of the tree, and Sarah made sure that he was aware of her displeasure.

"No more running off like that." The way she whispered the words and patted his neck was a direct contradiction. Besides, he was purring again. "Couldn't you have just gobbled up that mean old unicorn, hmm? Oh, quit, I'm supposed to be mad at you!" she laughed when he nuzzled her hand. "Because of you I had to sleep in a tree."

"Oh, yes," Jareth drawled as he walked to her side. The crystal he had been using to communicate with Brock burst in a shower of glitter. "It was a terrifying experience," he mumbled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "wasn't it?"

Sarah couldn't help but smile and lean into his side. "I'll never be the same again."

They climbed aboard the dragon and took off toward the mountainous outline. As they drew nearer the air acquired a frosty edge. Luckily Jareth had insisted on adding layers of the clothes Margaret had packed, and the wind was not unbearable. Glinting tips of white snow could be seen dotting the range. Higher and higher they flew, until the thinning trees below them seemed nothing more than toothpicks. Steadily they ascended one side of the mountain and Sarah tightened her grip. She remembered Lyra's warning about falling from a dragon's back thousands of feet up a mountain, and really didn't want to experience it firsthand.

The closer they got to the peak, the colder and thinner the air became. Sarah's ears even popped before the dragon tilted its wings to dive and fly along the length of the mountain chain. Below them were rocks and a few grubby bushes, but no other life could be seen. Finally they spotted it, tucked back between the largest tower of rock and one slightly smaller-a saddle, a dip, in the land. A pass.

"There it is," Jareth whispered to himself. Neither of them heard the words before the wind flung them down and away. But Sarah could tell. The pass was covered in a thick, heavy shadow. True there was little sunlight on this day, but there should have been a hint of sight. It was as if the way through the mountains had been deliberately darkened and all other areas lightened.

A low whistle from the Goblin King prompted the dragon to fly a bit lower. Obviously they could not descend directly into the darkness. He wanted to survey the land, try and detect any kind of movement, a way that they could have the element of surprise. After several circles he whistled again and the dragon swerved. It raced back down the rocky slopes, eager to move away from the darkness and the vile energy pulsing around the place, and made the return journey in almost half the time.

It landed close to the base of the tallest mountain, furled its wings, and gave a great rumbling shudder of its body. "Steady..." Jareth eased.

"What's wrong with him?" Sarah shivered. Her teeth were chattering despite the warm garments.

Jareth slid from the dragon and helped her down. "It's the dark vein in the pass. Even though we could not see it, as it was covered in shadow, he can feel it." His cheeks were blushed a fine pink from the wind and cold, and Sarah couldn't help to marvel at how it almost made him look...human. "His instincts were telling him to run the entire time. I would be worried if they didn't. Besides," he continued, "even without the vein, there are things to be cautious of."

Together they watched the dragon move farther away, distancing itself from the mountain, and toss its head in vexation. She dreaded the undead Jareth had shown her in the crystal. No wonder the poor beast could barely contain himself. A quick glance upward was fruitless in her efforts to guess the time of day. Surely they had been on the dragon for quite a while, but how many hours was incalculable.

While Sarah thought to herself Jareth walked around to the pack on her back. After digging and pushing things around he brought out her bow and quiver. "Here," he said, handing them over her shoulder. Liuhath followed and he watched her turn to him.

She seemed to understand that now was the time to fulfil her duty. Her face hardened slightly, the quiver found its place over one shoulder, and she nodded to the other Fae before her. It pained him deeply. He had brought this burden upon her, years and years before he had fallen in love with the girl. Sarah's life could have been simple, normal, bereft of magic, and she would have at least been happy in ignorance. Fate, as always, seemed to find it a rare occasion to bestow happiness upon a soul without some price. Resigning himself to the inevitable, just like he had time and time again when faced with his own shortcomings, Jareth returned the nod and looked to the dragon.

"Come now, friend. Only a little farther," he beckoned as a father would to a scared child. "I believe your lady could use a protector."

Sarah's lips turned up at the corner and she placed a hand on Jareth's shoulder. "Maybe two."

He turned at the unexpected gesture. "Then two it shall be."

If a dragon could whimper and grumble, theirs surely would have. Jareth gave the creature a fierce look before turning and leading Sarah to the mountain. Though, they were walking away from the pass.

"Jareth," she frowned, "the pass is in the other direction."

A secretive grin revealed his teeth. "I know."

* * *

The looking pool had been still and silent for a rather long time. It was putting Larimon on edge. He had promised hordes of angry citizens that the Goblin King would right all wrongs and set things to normal, or he would intervene.

Of course, he had not contacted Jareth or his Champion. He had no intention of actually spurring on their mission. The High Chancellor was growing restless with the lack of action, and only prayed that his Master was somewhere destroying that blasted sword. How could he be needed unless the King of the Goblins failed? Larimon would hold the key, the one loophole, to the liberation of these pathetic creatures. He would be rewarded beyond his wildest dreams for it, but first, the sword...

"Larimon."

A chill of pins and needles, pricking like ice, stole up the High Chancellor's spine. His Master's presence had only evoked that sensation the first time they met, when he had appeared from shadow and made his offer. Slowly he turned from walking his circle around the looking pool. "Yes, master?"

He barely contained the gasp at the sight of Jareth's general laying sprawled at the feet of the shadowed figure. Black, ragged wisps of smoke served as the demon's form of dress, while the face was a mask of darkness.

"M-master?" he stuttered again. What had he done?

"I have prevented the slip of this fool's tongue," the demon whispered, toeing Brock's head with what was perhaps a foot. "The Goblin King and Champion are quite bright. They discovered the link to the new veins."

Larimon paled before glancing down to the still figure on his floor. "The general?"

"Interfered," his Master spat, "and refused a generous position of power on your Council. I merely silenced his refusal. But," came the mocking laugh, "he will have a great honor."

A flicker of jealousy sparked inside the Chancellor. Honor? Surely, after his loyalty, his Master would not pay kindness to this foul Fae.

"Yes," the demon sighed. Larimon said nothing, but watched as he moved to kneel at the general's side. "He will be the first of many to die."

"Die?" Larimon breathed. He forgot himself and spoke aloud to the room. "But...the Fae cannot..."

The cold laugh of the smoky figure across the room silenced his thoughts. "All souls can perish. There is always a way that the weak can be broken." Brock, staring blankly at the ceiling, neck running with red, gurgled incomprehensibly. "What was that?" the demon asked. "Let us see what you have to say after turning away my proposition," he sneered, waving a hand over his body.

Brock's deep wound heeled instantly, the skin knitting itself back together, before he coughed roughly and scrambled into a sitting position. "The Fae cannot die, you heartless fiend. Release me at once!"

"Ah...you were not listening." Snakes of torn shadow whipped as the demon prowled around the general in a slow circle. "You, of all the inhabitants Underground, should know. You have said it yourself."

Bewildered, he looked up to the faceless figure and scowled. "I said no such thing."

"Didn't you?" Larimon watched as Brock was hauled to his feet and flung at the looking pool. Immediately an image wavered over the water. "I have been watching the Goblin King for much time now, as I have all the rulers in this realm. Do you not remember this night?"

Brock looked on to see a dripping Jareth lay a sleeping Sarah, wrapped in a human jacket, onto a low couch. Moments later he saw himself and Margaret appear in a doorway. "The night Sarah was brought back to the Goblin City?" he wondered.

Another wave of his hand and sound poured through the water.

_Jareth pressed his lips in response, staring into the fire. "I didn't think it would ever come to this-she was supposed to take her dreams. You know that refusing such a large part of the soul can kill a mortal."_

"_It can kill a Fae just as easily," Brock offered, coming to stand beside the couch. "But yes, I know."_

"But," Brock spluttered as the scene faded, "I was being figurative! I only meant that Jareth's life would have no meaning without the girl in it, because he loves-"

"Dreams?" Larimon cut in. "Refusing dreams can kill the Fae? Such a trifling thing?"

"Dreams have power," the demon nodded. "What the Goblin King said of the mortals is true...apparently the Champion was headed down that path while she remained human. She rejected her dreams and sacrificed a part of her soul. The Gift bestowed upon her ultimately mended that fractured spirit. For a Fae, though," he mused, twisting his wrist. A solid sphere of black took shape in his palm. "It would be fatal."

"You may destroy me in all but that way," Brock roared, springing to his feet. "I will never refuse my dreams and let them rot in your grasp."

"Yes," Larimon's Master replied, "you will. Have you seen your dreams, general?" he cooed. The orb in his hand blinked into an exact replica of the Goblin King's crystals. Inside swam a myriad of images. Children, a wife, glory. The throne. "You have been a loyal servant to the Goblin Kingdom. To its ruler. But do you not crave the power of the title?" A crown floated into view. "If you were to accept your dreams," he whispered, "it would mean utter betrayal. Everything you have ever worked for, loved, would become folly."

With a sinking heart Brock found that it was true. More than anything he had craved the opportunity to rule, not for himself, but for the love of his subjects. Being the king's trusted general and often his advisor had been enough of a consolation. But this...

"I would rather die," he growled, "than forsake my duty."

"I thought as much," the demon laughed. With horror Brock watched the crystal float slowly toward the ceiling. "Any last words, general?"

To die, to cease to exist, was a terrifying idea. Brock found that he preferred it much more to the pain he would always harbor had he embraced treachery.

"After the Goblin King has won," he returned, standing as bravely as his wavering image would allow, "I will see you in Hell."

The crystal burst.

* * *

Sarah really did not understand what purpose Jareth had in dragging her _away_ from the vein. She had worked herself up into a fighting mood, bow at the ready, and he was going the wrong direction. No matter what she asked, he refused to elaborate on his plan. The dragon did not fly them up the side of the mountain, simply lumbered behind at a steady pace, and so they were climbing over boulders and shifting dirt.

A groan escaped her as the toe of one boot slipped on a chink of loose rock. She caught herself with another large stone, but Jareth's hand grabbed her wrist before she could fall. Carefully he hauled the panting girl up. "Alright?" he asked. Sarah nodded. "How's your side? I imagine the exertion is not helping..."

"Honestly, fine," she shrugged. "Lyra's salve acted as a temporary stitching, but sometimes it's still sore."

Gingerly Jareth smoothed a hand over the wound. "Save what energy you can. There's nothing we can do for it now, and we won't have rest until our job is finished." He was surprised when Sarah's hand settled over his own.

"I'm fine, really," she stressed. If nothing else, it helped that he was concerned for her. "Let's keep going."

He nodded and turned to continue the trek, keeping Sarah's hand in his. They followed the natural path carved into the mountain, a zigzag up to the peak that had them winding ever closer to the top. Certainly it was easier than going straight up, but it took much more time.

Some rocks were as tiny as grains of sand, and others were large as semi-trucks. Sarah blinked a few times when the shadows seemed to move of their own accord. Actually...there should not be shadows. The sun was hidden behind the clouds. Writing it off as a trick of her overworked brain, she ignored it and pressed on.

* * *

"Wait..." the demon breathed at the pool. The scene of the climbing pair stood out clearly as Larimon watched at his side. "Not yet. Be patient, and we shall have them exactly where we want them..."

* * *

Up ahead was the spot Jareth had been searching for. By luck he had seen it on the map Brock retrieved from the library, the same one with the inked rivers of lava. "Here," he sighed, hoisting Sarah up one last stretch of rock. Pleased, he motioned to a large opening in the mountain's wall. "There is a cave that will lead straight out into the pass. They will be expecting us to stride right up the other side of the mountain," Jareth smiled, "but we will attack from a different angle."

"Clever," Sarah nodded. Slowly she looked around Jareth's shoulders to the dark cave beyond. "And that's...safe." Her shoes shifted uneasily in the light dusting of snow that covered the last hundred feet or so of mountain.

He had no idea, no previous knowledge of this cave, but self-doubt would do nothing for them now. "This will be to our advantage." His tone was assuring and a misty breath hung in the air. "It should not be a long walk." Quietly he looked into the girl's questioning green eyes. "Trust me."

Jareth had asked that of her before, she mused. Hadn't he taken care of her? Exasperated and soothed her in equal measures? Before her mind had made itself up she was already nodding and tightening the hold on his hand. Her other gripped the bow with mounting determination.

Briefly he nodded to the dragon, sending an unspoken message, which Sarah guessed followed along the lines of "Guard the rear." Every few steps its head would swivel around to check.

Tentatively they stepped over the threshold of the opening. Inside the dark was consuming until Liuhath began to glow.

What met their eyes was reflection upon reflection of the sword's warm light. The cave was covered in sheets of ice, icicles hanging like fangs from the ceiling. Their own images were reflected back at them from every angle, and Sarah was having a difficult time distinguishing which direction was the way forward.

Jareth motioned for silence and gently pulled her in one direction. Somewhere in the dark came a steady _drip drip_ of water, an almost calculated echo, and the only noise to be heard. Behind them the dragon padded quietly.

Distorted images of the three moved along the walls of the cave like mirrors in a fun house. Liuhath's glow was not strong enough to penetrate but a few feet of darkness at a time, and so the length of the cavern was unknown. The farther they pressed into the mountain the louder the dripping noise became, soon amplified into hundreds of pitter patters. Jareth did not care for the sound of melting ice in a place that should be frozen over completely, as it had been outside, but decided to worry over the task at hand.

Sarah was thinking along the same lines. Surely her little wish earlier had not caused any extensive harm...it had only been one ribbon of lava that shifted to warm her stream, right? With each step she became less sure. Her boots were sloshing through rather large puddles.

A splash caused the three to whirl around. Hearts hiccuping, their eyes searched frantically for what had caused the noise. Then there was another splash, closer, and another.

"Jareth..." Sarah breathed. She was gripping her bow so tightly that her fingers were numb. Behind them an icicle dropped to the ground with a crash and her scream of fright was barely contained. The Goblin King thrust Liuhath over his head, but the cave ceiling was nothing save rock and ice. Clumsily her fingers retrieved an arrow and she knocked it.

It had been years since she'd attempted archery. Why hadn't she been given something like daggers? But even now her fingers curled in a familiar way over the weapon as she pulled slowly on the string.

Faint rumbling caused the hairs on the back of Jareth's neck to stand on end. Around them the ice clinked like pieces of glass, a few shards coming away not far from their position. The rumble was soft, and low, but nothing of the earth. He could see the tense line in Sarah's back, could almost hear her heart trying to escape her chest. Reaching out a hand to place on her shoulder, he yelled in surprise when she spun around, yanked the bow to eye level, and let loose an arrow.

The sound of the escaped arrow sliced the air and buzzed before there was a thump and howl of rage. Horrified, Sarah watched the struck beast limp into Liuhath's glow. She heard Jareth suck in his breath as the animal's growl intensified to a snarl.

How had she done that? Her mind went into overdrive. It was like her senses had known it was there in the dark. Steadily it advanced on them, crouched low to the wet cave floor, but Jareth held his ground with the sword presented in a challenge. "Sarah, get back from here." She was not listening, another arrow ready before he had finished. The dragon wriggled, tried to turn, and let out its own growl of fright.

Reflexively Sarah spun to the noise and stopped dead in her tracks.

So many of them, large and small, twisted masses, beasts unidentifiable to their true form. The darkness had warped them, and they had blocked the only exit. Jareth heard her gasp and made the mistake of ignoring his opponent.

With a leap the beast was on top of the Goblin King. They had fallen for the deception, and now the trap had sprung. The remaining creatures jumped for the others as Jareth wrestled the beast and swiped with his sword, avoiding claws and teeth at all costs. The stench of death hung foul in the air, Liuhath's glow blinking and throwing contorted shadows on the walls.

Sarah had never shot so fast in her life. Things dropped from the ceiling, dived for her boots, so she kicked out at them. The dragon snapped its jaws and brandished its muscled tail. She stabbed an arrowhead into one monster before spinning and shooting it in the opposite direction. Icicles fell from the ceiling, as if the cave were closing its mouth to swallow them whole.

With one beast down, Jareth cut a path to Sarah. The flow of creatures wouldn't seem to end. As soon as one was destroyed two more would spring up to replace it. Their large friend was beyond himself with fear, skittish into self defense, and nearly knocked them both flat on more than one occasion. He barely had time to slam Sarah into a wall, covering her body with his own, before a column of fire spiraled through the cave.

The wave of intense heat mingled with shrieks and yowls of misery. Melted water poured in tiny waterfalls, trickling down and drenching the standing figures. After a moment the noises ceased and they dared to look. Dark bodies, splotches of black goo, were puddled all over the floor. Already retreating to the exit was the dragon, heedless of its destructive exhalation.

Breathing heavily, shaking with the effort to stand, Sarah gulped and opened her mouth to call the dragon back. On the ceiling something snapped. Creaking, groaning noises of shifting rock and breaking ice filled the cavern with magnified shrieks. It wasn't until she had been thrown roughly away, watching sprawled on the slippery floor as the ceiling caved in over Jareth's head, that she realized the scream was her own.

_P.S. I have barricaded myself in, lest your wrath plumet both me and this story into a torture chamber. Have faith in chapter twelve!_


	12. Much to Live for, More to Die for

XII

Much to Live For, More to Die For

Sarah struggled out from under the chunks of ice that had pinned her to the cave floor. Something grabbed a hold of her heart and seemed to squeeze it painfully with each beat. "Jareth!" Slabs of heavy rock, all covered in half-melted sheets of ice, blocked her way farther into the cave. "Jareth!" she wailed louder. Frantically she tore at loose stones and rubble. Get in, she had to get in, had to know he was alright... There was no other sound than that of her rising voice and the crumbling stones. "Answer me!"

Around her, in the few remaining icicles, were reflected images of several brunette girls with green eyes. They all threw themselves down at the base of the heaped rocks, sobbing into the puddles.

"Please..."

There were even multiple voices. Dozens of Sarahs mourning, hair plastered over their faces with the melted water and tears, fingers reaching out to claw away another rock.

"Oh, no, no, he can't be. He can't..."

She was alone. Completely and utterly defenseless. Forget the dragon, he had vanished, and her bow lay in a puddle of black goo. Sarah could care less. Jareth was gone, really gone...

"You can't die, you Fae bastard!" she shouted at the wall. "Or have you lied to me about that?" Hastily she scrambled up, tripped, and drug herself to stand again with the support of the fallen rocks. "Prove it!" she bellowed until her voice cracked. A faraway crash sounded, probably another icicle falling at her enraged words. "Prove to me that you're alive!"

No one answered her. Suddenly hoarse, the girl slid down the cave wall and buried her face in her knees. What could she do now? Sit here...she would sit here and starve, or freeze, or wait until more of those monsters came. Then she would slaughter everything in her wake.

Revenge...oh. Yes, revenge was what she needed. The darkness had taken Jareth from her. Now the only soul that had ever made Sarah Williams feel complete was gone. Someone was going to pay dearly for this-

"Little girl, why are you crying?"

"Jareth?" she gasped, raising her head with a jerk. But there was no one else with her. Standing shakily she spun, only to find the other images mimic her movement. "Who was that?"

"Over here."

"And here."

"And here."

Sarah blinked to find that her distorted reflections were not crying, frowning, or shivering as she was. They all began to move independently of herself and one another.

"Sarah," one of them cooed, "why do you cry?"

She was hallucinating. It was a mental snap caused by grief. "Go away!"

"Go away?" Her reflections laughed together. "You cannot abandon yourself."

* * *

The demon nodded with satisfaction at the scene unfolding in Larimon's looking pool. It would distract her for a bit, if not fulfil his darker purpose. Now, on to other matters.

The High Chancellor was grateful for his Master's departure. Without a backwards glance to the image of a bewildered Sarah, he fled to the Safe Room. He wanted to get his paws on that crystal vial before the demon beat him to it.

* * *

"You aren't me!" Sarah growled. "This is some trick. An illusion."

One of the figures shrugged. "Sometimes talking to yourself is a good thing. We can try and solve your problem together."

"My problem? My _problem?!_" This was not a problem. This was a catastrophe. "Unless you can get this wall of rock out of my way, I don't want to hear another word!"

"Touchy," came a sniff. "Why does it matter to you so much?"

"Why does it..." The girl shook her head in disbelief. "How could you ask something like that? Jareth matters to me. He's a part of who I am."

A particularly thin Sarah, stretched by the icicle, sneered. "Is that all? You talk like he's your third arm, or something."

She had taken just about enough. With one agile motion she had grabbed a rock, flung it at the offending image, and sent the reflection falling to the ground in a million pieces. "That isn't what I meant at all!"

"She's means she can't survive without him. Security, bread and butter, all that."

Another icicle smashed.

"No, no, he's just really delicious company, isn't that right, Sarah?"

A third, a fourth, a fifth were destroyed. Sarah was panting, flecks of ice sticking to her hair. Only one icicle remained with her image, one that looked very similar to the real Sarah, and belatedly she realized that her only light source had been pouring from them. Now around her the dark was nearly solid.

Inside the remaining crystal an image spun itself into existence. Two figures glided over a dance floor dripping with white. The man in a coat dusted with starry fragments of crystal, tall and ethereal, sighed a song to the enraptured woman in his arms. She was a beautiful creature, grown newly into womanhood, a perfect replica of Sarah. Tenderly the man halted and drew the woman to him, leaning down to softly brush his lips against her own...

The sight caused her throat to constrict. "Isn't this your dream, Sarah?" asked her own disembodied voice. It sounded fake to her cold ears. "The one you refused so long ago? Accept it now, take this second chance."

She shook her head. "I can't."

"I don't see why not." More images began to scroll across the ice, almost too fast for Sarah to see. Wonderfully terrible things. Unrestricted passions that her heart had long ignored. Once more her possessed reflection dominated the icicle. "It's all you ever wanted."

Sarah could not believe she was actually having this conversation with herself. Undoubtedly her mind was going, and fast. Despite the other Sarah's tempting offer, she smiled sadly and shook her head again.

A wicked grin twitched at the corner of the impostor's mouth, a strange angle for Sarah's face. "Then you reject your dreams a second time."

Frowning, the real Sarah said, "That's impossible. Not when I've already accepted them. Perhaps a few years late, but-"

"What?" blinked the fake image. "I don't understand!" The last reflection gave her a bewildered look before she too was smashed. Plunged into absolute darkness, Sarah stood amidst the half melted, half frozen cave and whispered to no one.

"You idiot. I'm in love with him."

* * *

He was floating. The river was carrying him away...

Jareth groaned and twisted, catching a boot on a loose rock. While halting his movement, it also caused him to twist and inhale a mouthful of ice water. Spluttering, he pushed up from the current on his elbows and looked out before him.

The new gush of water had been too much for the cave to handle and flowed right out into the snowy pass. It continued to cut a path through the untouched layer of flakes, winding and swirling down to pool in the lowest point. From his spot just outside the mouth of the cave Jareth could already see the shadows starting to stir, and...what was that, in the middle of the newly formed lake? From far away it looked like...an altar of stone. Unobserved, the pack, sodden and spilling half its contents, floated to a stop beside him.

"Sarah," he mumbled before jumping to his feet. Mercifully Liuhath had stayed put in his clenched fist.

"I'm afraid not."

From just beyond the threshold of the cave emerged a figure swathed in strips of shadow. He moved with a kind of cruel grace, hovering above the ground, and Jareth felt his limbs tingle with the strange energy he radiated. It did not deter him. Without a word he lifted the sword in warning.

"Do not try me, Goblin King. Hand over the sword."

"The sword?" he frowned.

"Liuhath," the demon purred. "Sword of light, Gift of the Fae. Give it to me."

An animalistic rumble started at the back of his throat. "I will cut you down where you stand, demon. You are no match for me."

"No?" the shadowed figure laughed. "How about now..."

In horror Jareth felt the ground below him tremble. A chasm opened wide at his back, jolting the mountain and spewing a cloud of steam. From within a red glow appeared. Part of the ground crumbled away to leave him standing on the tip of a tiny cliff, below a drop waiting to swallow him in boiling lava.

"You have your Champion to thank for that," said the demon. Around him the shreds of darkness twirled and lifted to conceal his figure. When they dropped away something entirely different stood before the Goblin King. A tall, horned beast raised on two clawed feet, shaggy darkness covering him from top to bottom, and paws large enough to crush a horse. He smiled to reveal jagged fangs. "It seems she has awakened the volcano."

Jareth's eyes hardened. "Demon, I will warn you one final time." He could feel the undead lumbering up the slope behind him. Luckily the chasm kept them separated. For now.

"My patience wears thin," hissed the new demon. "I _will _taste Aboveground flesh this day, Goblin King. Your rule has come to an end."

He sprang.

* * *

It might have been hours that Sarah was alone to weep in the darkness. She could feel every bruise and cut on her body trying to heal, yet she remained indifferent. Faint light at the edge of her vision could not even stir her. When the dragon padded to her side, occasionally letting out a burst of fire to light the way, she did not have the heart to scream and rage at him. He had only done what he thought was right. The poor beast had defeated the tainted creatures for them, and had not meant any real harm. Choking on her own sob, Sarah flung herself blindly into the scaly neck and cried for all she was worth. "At least you came back," she sighed once there were no tears left. "Jareth might never come back."

Looking to the wall of rock, a determined scowl painted her face. "Come on. There's still a job to finish."

She wasn't sure if the dragon understood her, or merely wanted to head that direction, but at once he began to dig through to the other side. At this point Sarah did not care if she was heading out on a suicide mission. Jareth was no longer here to help her, but she would not betray him with cowardice.

* * *

Every lock had been turned, the windows shut. Nothing, no one, was going to get into the Safe Room. Larimon shook his head to dispel the negative feeling and strode to the locked inner chamber. A flick of his wrist, a simple command, and it was open. He snatched the vial and clutched it to his chest. This was his ticket out. Carefully he examined the final drop inside, silvery and climbing the fragile walls. As soon as word came that the sword was taken care of, he would act. Until his master returned, though, it suited him to remain barricaded inside. And wait.

* * *

This had never happened before. In all the millennia that the Labyrinth and Goblin Kingdom had stood, there had always been some kind of authoritative figure around. They had searched high and low. The fieries checked the forests, the hands searched the oubliettes, Hoggle wondered the perimeter, Didymus and Ludo took the bog, the brownies looked through the stone maze.

No Jareth.

No Sarah.

No Brock.

The household staff was nearly overrun by all the odd things slipping in and out of the castle doors. Margaret had already hidden the fine china lest it be broken to smithereens. Somehow there was a swimming pool of goblin ale in the dungeon and about twenty extra chickens running amok in the throne room. No one knew how to contain the madness, but didn't dare to flee from the castle. They were only too aware of the dark blotches seen on the horizon, crawling closer with each passing hour.

* * *

The disappointment was unbearable once they had broken through to the other side. Sarah and the dragon both scanned the area, but there was no Jareth to be found. Not even a trace that he had been there. Stubbornly she pushed back the new influx of tears and gripped her bow until it almost broke in half. Picking her way carefully through the remainder of the cave, avoiding fallen icicles and parts of the creatures slain by Jareth, she managed to traverse the passage without incident. Her boots squelched with water, but the dragon's constant bursts of light had warmed and dried her clothes considerably.

Weak daylight was finally visible through a hole in the rock. Water was still trickling outside, pulled by the downhill slope. Carefully Sarah peeked around one side of the opening after motioning for the dragon to stop a ways back.

Down in the pass the deepest dip in the land had been filled with melted water. A gap of searing red was distinguishable not far away, steaming, and beyond that...

Her eyes widened at the scene before her. Two figures were battling relentlessly. There was Jareth, dueling a large beast with all his might. It had bull-like hulk and immense horns that charged continually at the fighting Fae.

"Dear God!" she squealed while clutching the rock wall for support. "He's alive..." Every nerve in her body demanded that Sarah fly down the mountain and beat him to a pulp for scaring her. Then, if he was still alive after _that_, she would kiss him into oblivion.

The relief was fast replaced with alarm. He was tiring, and fast. How long had they been at it? Strange, but it appeared the monster kept diving _for _Liuhath rather than away from it...

Thinking fast, she knocked an arrow. Thankfully her quiver always seemed to remain magically full. But just when she was about to let it fly, she realized there was no way it could reach. She was terribly out of range. All the good it would do would be to give her position away.

Leaning slightly around the opening of the cave, she tried to conjure some means to wound Jareth's adversary. He needed a fighting chance, a surprise attack. But how?

Her gaze settled upon the pack floating forgotten in the trickling water. It was weighed down enough that the slight stream did not carry it to the expanding lake. Shaking her head, Sarah dived out, grabbed the bag, and retreated back into the cave before the dragon could blink.

"_My dear," he laughed, tossing her the bag, "I could quite literally stuff the dragon in there, and it would still feel as light."_

"Literally, Jareth?" she mumbled, thinking over his earlier boast. Oh, Hell...she was nuts. "Listen up," Sarah commanded of the dragon. Surprisingly it seemed to understand. "I am going to do the most moronic thing in the history of the Underground, and I need your help."

* * *

Foolish Fae...he could not keep up this battle much longer. "Surrender, Goblin King!" the demon cackled. "Won't you listen to my generous offer?"

Sparks flew as Jareth blocked his swiping claws with the sword. Deftly he pulled it away before the monster could fully grasp it. They had fought so long...he didn't have the energy to breathe, let alone speak.

"I am under an agreement with the High Chancellor," the dark figure continued, not winded in the least, "but only until I have fulfilled my part of the bargain. And unless I destroy that sword, unfortunately, mortal delicacies will remain unattainable."

Jareth nearly faltered in their dangerous waltz. Larimon? Larimon was behind this? Rage surged tenfold through his veins as he lept at the beast, striking again and again. "Impossible!" he snarled. "No demon can break Liuhath." Momentarily he let some of his energy be drained by a smirk. "Only one power in all of the Underground can shatter this blade, and_ I_ will never bend to your will."

The demon roared in disbelief. Apparently Larimon had not elaborated on that part of the bargain. "That sword will be in pieces yet, Goblin King! If it is by your own hand...so be it."

* * *

The contents of the bag was dumped all over the cave floor. Bottles, clothes, food, cloaks, blankets, camping equipment they had never used. Several shakes and dumps were needed before everything fell away. Truly, this bag was magical.

Feeling slightly apprehensive at her own plan, and seeing no way out, Sarah looked to the dragon and asked, "Ready?" It gave her a blank stare. "Alright," she huffed, "blink once if you understand the instructions."

The dragon blinked slowly one time in an obvious attempt to call her an imbecile.

"Ok. If this doesn't work..." Sarah whispered. She bit her bottom lip before patting the dragon's neck. "See you on the other side, buddy." Without further ado she stuck one foot into the pack.

It met nothingness. Not even the bottom of the bag. Fascinated, she pulled it up to her thigh and moved it around some more. Still nothing. Hanging onto the dragon with a hand for support, she balanced, gave a silent prayer to the dark, and jumped the other leg into the bag. Her shriek of surprise was swallowed when the upper portion of her body disappeared into the sack as well.

Quizzically the dragon regarded the bag that had fallen to the floor. He twitched his wings, as if to shrug, before nudging the top of the pack closed and gingerly picking it up with two fangs. Softly he placed it into the flowing stream and watched it float away on the current and down to the lake.

* * *

"Your kind tires so easily."

He ignored the demon's provoke.

"Your kind smells like death."

An appreciative chortle escaped the beast. He slashed out, knocking the blade with such force that it sent Jareth sprawling into a pile of snow. Panting, heaving, he rolled back onto his feet wet and covered with flecks of ice.

"I do not understand why you try so hard, Goblin King. After all, we both know that you cannot bind this vein on your own."

Every nerve is his body contracted. He knew? About Sarah?

"Yes, that pretty little mortal-turned-Fae shall not be among us much longer. If she is still alive, which I doubt," he grinned, "then her time is limited."

The world stopped spinning for Jareth. Sarah...not alive. His heart skipped a beat. Dead. Gone. Another silent beat.

He had been right in assuming that the girl would be the Goblin King's downfall. The glazed eyes, the horrified expression... It was too easy.

Jareth hardly felt Liuhath spin from his hands. The undead that had been lurking just beyond the fighting circle swarmed atop him like starved wolves. They dragged him through the snow, cutting a zigzag path down to the stone altar. Easily he was thrown atop it.

Crazed, they tore at his clothes, ripping away strips and bloodying his skin with their sharp nails. Oh, he hoped they would cut out his miserable heart so that he did not have to feel this grief any longer. If Sarah was truly dead...

His fault. All his fault.

Intrigued, the demon wound down to his less impressionable form, watching the carnage. Slowly he circled the altar, a broken Goblin King lying face down over the cold marble, and snapped his fingers. The undead retreated at his bidding. He dangled Liuhath in front of the mismatched eyes that refused to see. "She is dead?" It was strange...he should have felt something crack within him. Bonded as they were, by his magic, Jareth realized his mistake. She could not be dead. All of his power would have returned.

"Perhaps," the shadow man acknowledged. "Perhaps not. By the end of this day I plan for you both to rejoin your army's general."

Brock? The beast could not mean what he thought. Some of the old Goblin King crept back into his eyes. "My general?" Forcefully he tried to keep the anger out of his voice, because to deceive this clever demon he needed to at least appear weak. Liuhath bobbed out of sight just as a small pack bumped the side of the altar. It floated, tilting in the current. Neither saw the flap pried open from the inside.

"Yes, I captured him for an experiment earlier today," he admitted. "It seems that my theory about the Fae lifespan was correct." As if telling the Goblin King a great secret, he leaned a bit closer and whispered, "You. Can. Die. Really and truly perish, cease to exist."

Sarah barely heard or comprehended the words being spoken over the altar above her. Inside the pack it was dark, and the never-ending empty space was hard enough to swim through. Yes, she thought wryly to herself, swim. She kicked her legs, doggy-paddled, and managed to grope her way through the nothingness to the top with bow in hand. By peeking with one eye, slightly prying the flap open, she could see part of the events above her.

"I made a very generous offer to your general, which he unfortunately refused. Your offer will be much better."

Silently Jareth summoned all the trickles of energy he possessed. The magic built in his fingertips, and his heartbeat was in his head. Over his exposed back he could sense the demon looming. "What offer might that be?"

Encouraged, the demon twirled Liuhath in one hand. "Break the sword. My agreement with Larimon will be fulfilled, and I am free to roam the Aboveground as I see fit. You will be rewarded your true form...the angel your ancestors so foolishly shunned."

His mind halted. To stand before Heaven's gates, to have life beyond this damnably eternal struggle...

With a snarl Jareth rolled off the altar, releasing his magic in a burst of power. The wave was perfectly aimed at the chest of the demon, headed straight for a fatal spot, when Liuhath blocked its path.

A howl of rage, of pain, accompanied the Goblin King as he fell into the frigid lake. In his eyes was a flash of gold and amber, the shards of the broken blade splashing around his still form.

Sarah felt it. Felt the power splinter and flicker out of existence. Her own small measure of torture was felt in every limb of her body, through every vein. A part of her had died. Clutching heavily with one hand to the bow and edge of the pouch, the other to her racing heart, she gasped for air and looked again to the scene above her.

"Many thanks," laughed the demon. His voice deepened as the shadows shifted again to his true form. "And now...your reward..."

Jareth roared with pain when clawed paws picked him up and flung his aching body back onto the altar. Beneath him, already staining the stone red, were flecks of blood from the puncture wounds and the undead's abuse.

But nothing compared to the slices between his shoulder blades. Two long gashes bled scarlet lines through his shirt. Excruciating pain shot down the length of his back before Jareth managed a gasp. He became enveloped by it, numbed with the overwhelming sensation, as a pair of wings unfurled to drape over the sides of the altar.

Her gasp was barely stifled. Sarah had never seen anything so horrible. Jareth's nails were clawing at the marble as the demon cackled over him. And the wings...

They were sinister, feathers black as the dark vein. Already his body had paled with the strain, the exhaustion. His hair streaked a morbid ebony until every fair lock vanished. Frantically Sarah scrambled for the flap of the pack.

"There now." Elated at his victory, the demon tossed the sword's hilt into a snowdrift. "Ah, but there might be a catch, Goblin King." He ignored the strangled moans issuing from his victim's mouth. "A tainted angel is not welcomed in Heaven. A fallen one cannot live Aboveground. Your Fae power will fade, and you will have no place in your own realm. Hell does not accept mongrels. Where," he laughed, "will you go?" A snap of his fingers caused the undead, still for too long, to advance eagerly towards the altar. "Who could ever love the outcast?"

"I do."

Shocked, the demon watched a sodden Sarah rise from the opposite side of the marble stone. "Little girl. You escaped my trap."

"Damn right I did," she whispered. An arrow was already knocked, hidden behind her back.

"You are a fiery witch, aren't you?" His faceless head tilted to the side. "If you were once mortal," he mused, stalking her way, "perhaps you still taste like one..."

A battle cry, unknown to even Sarah herself, tore from her throat. The demon faltered, her arrow loosed.

It missed.

"Pretty though you are, I am sure your flavor is much better than your aim."

"My aim," she smiled, "was perfect."

The arrow fell exactly where she wanted it to. Her blood, smeared over the pointed arrowhead, dived straight and true into the blazing crack of lava.

Wild eyes would have turned to the girl in rage had there been any in his face. The demon morphed larger and larger, howling and springing for the girl.

"I wish you would return to Hell," she said softly. "Right now."

From the boiling rupture in the ground lava poured forth, streaming and hissing at the contact with the wet snow. The undead were felled like dominoes, black shadows screaming and falling prey to the inescapable molten rock. Though he tried to resist, the demon could not fight the powerful pull. Sarah's blood had mingled with the natural force she had already provoked. It was bound, coupled with a wish, to her bidding.

She did not watch to see the demon be sucked down into the crevice. Her ears were deaf to the yowls of anguish around her. Clumsily Sarah clambered onto the altar and pulled Jareth to her chest, up and away from the hot lava that was fast flooding the space around their little island. "Jareth, can you hear me?" she yelled above the roar. He remained limp before his eyes flickered open.

"Sarah."

"Yes, oh thank God," she moaned into his dark hair. "I thought I lost you."

His grip on her steadily increased. "You...love me?"

Tears were already coating her cheeks. "I've always loved you." A sob smothered her laugh. "I was too afraid of myself to admit it."

This was so hard, so unfair to the both of them. Jareth felt his heart breaking deep within his chest.

"Kiss me," Sarah smiled into his hair. "Kiss me right now, and let's disappear. I don't care if we wind up in the bog-"

Jareth silenced her lips with a bare finger. She blinked, then looked up into cold eyes. They were both a deep, silent brown. "The dark vein has not been bound."

"What?" she breathed.

"Your wish will not bind it. Liuhath is broken."

Desperately she looked around to the rising lava, the feverish rock and ice clashing to create wild steam. The heat from it was pasting her hair to her face again. "But how-"

"There were two Gifts, Sarah," he said. She thought he looked deceptively calm. "I did not use all of the second to turn you Fae. Retrieve it, bring it back to seal the rift. There is enough light there to use."

"Larimon has it!" came her panicked cry. "God only knows where he is!"

Quickly Jareth took her worried face between his hands. "There is not enough power, split as it is between you and I, for both of us to magic where Larimon has the vial. I will give you the rest of my power," he said, "and you can make the journey yourself."

"No! I'm not leaving you, Ja-"

"Yes," he roared, "you are!"

Heart faltering erratically, Sarah recoiled at his words.

"Sarah, listen to me. My soul won't survive in this form, not anywhere I flee to. I am giving all that remains of my power into your keeping." Before she could protest, Jareth had wrenched the pendant from around his neck and settled it over her own. The wicked horns glinted, reflecting the intense heat around them.

She clutched the gold shape in one fist. "I'll come back for you."

Sadly he shook his head. "You will barely have enough power to retrieve the vial, bring it back, and then transport yourself away. Taking me with you would plunge your body into another coma, one you would never wake from."

The lava was licking around the marble altar. Somehow it had managed to remain erect. Sarah could not see for the tears clouding her vision. She didn't care what Jareth said...she loved him. Coma or not, she was coming back and would whisk him away. But to argue was simply wasting time.

When she nodded Jareth felt a small twinge of relief. Sarah would finally be safe. Just as she should have been all her life. Quietly he took her hands and splayed them over his heart.

Inside she could feel the rough pull of her magic on his. Slowly more and more was seeping into her, causing a change of unbelievable proportions. It was more than wind, or pulsing magic. This was deeper, eternal, ageless power. Her body was going to burst, she could not hold it all...

One final shove was all it would take. The Goblin King was almost no more, for all that remained of his power was the small taste left on his lips. Without hesitation he gathered the quivering girl to his chest, nearly convulsing with the magical overload, and whispered in her ear, "Sarah Williams. Goblin Queen."

Softly Jareth moved his mouth over her own. Sarah's breath hitched like it always did when he kissed her. This one was different than any other in the world, before or after. He poured everything he had into it, painstakingly conveying his magic, his sorrow, his love.

The wind took her in a sigh, whipping up around the altar, and it turned into a gale even after her form turned to pure air in his arms. Glacial currents tore down the mountain, bringing with it swirls of snow. Harshly the hot and cold clashed, amidst it a marble stone island.

Jareth ducked beneath one dark wing. "At least I never told her I loved her," he sighed to the white sky. "She will not miss something she never lost."

* * *

Behind him Larimon could feel another presence in the room. There was no noise to alert him, simply the feeling. Maniacally he clutched the vial to his chest, doubled over in his efforts to shield it. "So it's done? Liuhath is broken?" he breathed.

Booted steps took slow, measured paces in his direction. The demon had never made a sound.

"Liuhath is broken," repeated a second voice. "Which is why I will be reclaiming the Gift you have wrongfully confiscated."

The High Chancellor went rigid with fear. "You are not my Master." He had not erected wards to halt intruders... Slowly, very slowly, he turned.

Before his eyes stood a tall woman, pale as the moon, her sable hair gathered into a haphazard, windblown twist on her head. She was clothed head to toe in a sinful display of leather and dark feathers. On her arms were long gloves of blackest black, and a mask of equal color hid the upper half of her face. "No," she drawled. "I am not your Master. Your bargain with the demon is forfeit, Larimon."

Twitching in disbelief, he backed into the wall. The mystery woman followed at a torturously soft pace. "Who are you? No one has rights to this vial except me!"

Her spirit had taken all the plight it could. Sarah was not going to let this excuse for a Fae stand in her way. Heart beating wildly, she snarled and pulled an orb from the air.

Wait. A devilish smile twisted her mouth as she remembered.

Jareth had stolen her heart. She no longer had one.

"You forget your place, Chancellor," she whispered. The crystal rolled smoothly along her gloved knuckles, up her arm, across her bare shoulders, and down to the other palm. "As Goblin Queen, I have total control over that vial. Your tricks no longer apply, traitor."

Larimon gaped, shuddering at the intensity of her emerald eyes. "G-goblin Queen?"

"Do not," Sarah hissed, "dare make me ask again." With a jerk the shining crystal halted. She slid it through her fingers before tossing it over one shoulder.

Petrified, the High Chancellor watched as the open inner chamber, left wide after he had pulled the vial from within, became filled with a monstrous, spinning, slicing machine. He tried to magic away. Nothing.

"I will call off the Cleaners," Sarah informed him with a tilt of her head, "if you return what is mine."

He was not supposed to suffer this. The demon had promised him the Underground, glory, riches, total rule... Not a mauling.

"Here!" Larimon shrieked. Blindly he flung the precious vial toward the waiting woman. She caught it with one outstretched hand, long claw-like fingers wrapping around the small prize. The machine whirred ever closer. "Call it off! Call it off!" He scrambled at the wall, trying to claw his way out.

Sarah smiled and slipped the vial down into the snug place between her breasts, just underneath the pendant. "No."

"_What_?" His roar shook the walls. "You told me-"

She silenced him with a wave of her hand. Turning on her heel and fading into the shadows, she called over her shoulder, "I lied."

* * *

Spiked heels sunk deep into the newly fallen snow that covered the protruding cliff, the hem of her black dress powdered with white. Sarah observed the area with mounting urgency. The icy wind and snow, driven by her own misery, had soothed the raging lava. Everything was hard, frozen, and quiet. Hurriedly she scanned the pass, trying to locate the dark vein. All this time it had remained hidden in the shadows.

Jumping from the cliff with an instinctive leap, she plummeted before morphing. Her body knew what to do, even in raven form. Beat after beat of her wings drove her deeper into the shadows. The undead no longer slunk here, just the bubbling, sputtering darkness.

Easily she alighted once again into the snow. Already cut, it was no difficult task to yank off one leather glove and squeeze a drop of blood from her finger. The black goo did not put up much of a fight, as if also wearied by all the events of that day.

Delicately Sarah extracted the vial from her dress. She pulled out the stopper and kissed the glass lightly. This was their only chance... Inside the liquid danced, trying to escape the container in its eagerness, and she faltered when tipping her wrist.

What had Jareth said? This magic had turned her immortal, but before then? It had converted the fallen angels to Fae. With a start she realized what she truly held in her hand... an antidote. The Goblin King's life could be saved by the single drop there, shimmering beneath the crystal. She could give it to him and have her dream in full. Someone to love, who had offered mornings of gold and valentine evenings. More than a prince on a white steed...a king. Her king.

Who would never look at her again with anything more than disgust. He would live only to see the rest of his world wither.

"Please," she whispered. "For Jareth."

One single silvery drop of precious light was swallowed by the vein. Holding her breath, nearly crushing the vial in her hands, she waited.

A column of light that was so white and bright she shielded her eyes spun high into the clouds. Immediately they parted, revealing a merry blue sky. A familiar groan and tremble had the cleaved ground whole once again.

Springing into the sky, dropping the vial with impatience, Sarah winged it as fast as she could back to the altar. From above it looked like a beautifully carved statue of an angel, made of pure white marble. Around it were decorative wisps of lava, cooled into snowy spirals.

She nearly crash landed before returning to her humanoid form properly. Brushing the snow from his wings, turning him over, she traced Jareth's blue lips. "It's done," she choked. "Are you still there?" With him she would always have her heart. Now it had slowed to a crawl, barely risking to beat. It was sending out a distress call to anything it could reach.

His eyes felt frozen shut. But her voice...

"Sarah."

"Open your eyes, Jareth. There's something I want to show you."

So weak...but for her...anything...

There wasn't much that he could make out, except a beautiful woman and a spinning crystal.

"Once upon a time," she whispered, "The Goblin Queen fell in love with a fallen angel, and had given him certain powers..."

Heavy wings were beating at the air. He wasn't sure, but Jareth could detect a large green shadow, and faint words.

"Crystal...nothing more...dreams. Do you want it?"

"You are my dream, Sarah," he mumbled to her fading image. Something cool and round slid into his palm.

His body was lifting up. "Then you accept your dreams."

"Yes."


	13. In Limbo's Arms

XIII

In Limbo's Arms

Margaret rubbed her eyes as the dawn touched the farthest corners of the Labyrinth. Miracle of miracles, the darkness on the horizon had retreated during the night. Everyone was ecstatic, which only added to the mounting chaos in the kingdom. Brock was nowhere to be found, and that worried the maid to no end, but there was work to be done. Even without any apparent rule the citizens found solace in their daily routine.

Groggily she made her way to the henhouse. Upon opening the door she was not surprised to find that every last nest was empty, but angry nonetheless. Those goblins...they would pay for setting the chickens loose in the throne room. _Again_.

A loud roar caused Margaret to spin and clutch at the cap on her head. In the distance, just a tiny speck, something was flying their way with alarming speed.

"Oh...my..."

* * *

Lyra heard the dragon before she saw it. Damn her stew, it could wait. Still in her slippers, the healer reappeared in the courtyard. Others were running there as well, forsaking their morning chores, and watched as the beast alighted on the stone. But aboard its back were not any souls she had ever laid eyes on.

The woman ripped off her mask and searched the crowd for a friendly face. "Lyra!" she called.

"I do not believe it," came the startled mumble. "Sarah Williams? But who-"

Whispers in the crowd turned to cries of surprise as the second figure, rather limp in the woman's arms, rolled his dark head in their direction. A collective exclamation of "Your majesty!" followed before the healer had bustled to the dragon's side.

"What happened?" she demanded in a low hiss. Grabbing Jareth with one hand and Sarah with the other, all three swirled into her home.

Sarah sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I...he...it's a long story." She smiled with fatigue at the healer's unmoved 'try me' stance, and nodded. "From the beginning?"

* * *

After confirming Jareth's relative health, making sure that he was stabilized and functioning, they moved him into his own quarters. Perhaps, Lyra reasoned, a more comfortable setting would put him to rights. He had yet to open his eyes, though occasionally he would shift as if in sleep.

It worried Sarah that her quick thinking had not automatically restored him to former glory. She was fast finding that all her lovely fairytales were embellished, skipping the gruesome horror that was the unknown. What if the dragon had not swooped down from the cave and flown them home? Surely she would have transported them both and wound up in a coma herself. Strange, that her fate should be passed on to Jareth. But she had saved him, he was here in body...

If only his spirit remained clinging to life inside. There was no way to know.

"Frankly," Lyra huffed while drawing the heavy curtains, "I'm amazed that your plan worked."

"There was no plan," Sarah returned half-heartedly. "It...sort of just happened. Honestly..."

The healer watched the girl smooth the sheets around her king in a distracted fashion. "What?"

It was hard to make her voice work. "I was trying my best to say goodbye. There was no magic in the air around him, it felt so stale...and his face..." Carefully she traced the curve of his pale cheek. "I just wanted to give him something to make the passing easier. And that story I read so long ago, about how the Goblin King gave the girl certain powers..." Sarah laughed and shook her head. "Do you know what he said, right before I vanished to Larimon?"

Lyra had preoccupied herself with fluffing the pillows and avoiding Sarah's gaze. Tough as she was, something this profound would make her all soft around the edges. "Hmm?"

"He called me Goblin Queen, and dressed me in this getup," she motioned to her dark dress, "probably so that the High Chancellor would be scared into relinquishing the vial." A look of adoration and humor crossed her features. "It worked."

Stalling her unnecessary motions, Lyra looked once to the girl and then away. "Well, obviously you bestowed enough power on him to reverse the damage. But the dreams he accepted? I'm still not sure what those had to do with anything."

"His dreams..." Sarah mumbled. They had surprised her. It was slightly hard to remember all that the crystal had contained, like a fading dream. She assumed she hadn't really been supposed to see them in the first place. "Well, there was a rough translation for immortality. That, and the magic I granted him, must have mingled. Turned him Fae, like it did me." One faint wisp remained that she could remember. Something about eternity... Nevermind. It wasn't important.

Curious, the healer asked, "What was it like? When his wings..."

Repressing a grin at Lyra's thirst for knowledge, she said, "Just turned to ash and fell away. It was the oddest thing I have ever seen. But you," came the accusing point and a laugh, "are the true hero here." A few of her fingers raked through feathered hair that was spread over his pillow.

"I'm no idiot, girl," the healer snorted. "His majesty would have unleashed Hell all over again if he saw that black." Tentatively she moved toward the door. "We all know his preference is blond, anyway. Always has been."

"Vain creature," Sarah smiled. Noticing Lyra's retreat, she looked up. "Will you check on the dragon for me? He nearly killed himself, flying all the way home in one night. It makes me feel awful for leaving him in the courtyard."

"I'll check," she agreed.

Left alone with Jareth's still form, the girl didn't know what to do with herself. There must be some way to wake him up. Probably, though, it was pure exhaustion. A need for recuperation. Unwilling to leave his side, she slumped over the edge of the bed and fell asleep with her head by his shoulder.

* * *

Very slowly rulers trickled down from the Aboveground, ashamed of their cowardice, and resumed authority over the destroyed lands. Sarah had made it very clear to everyone the extent of Larimon's involvement, and he was punished by means too grisly to recount. It seemed the cleaners had made quite an impression upon him. In his sorry attempt at redemption he spilled the entire bargain between himself and the demon. The other members on the Council, already having foreseen his betrayal, fled to parts unknown. Unfortunately none were captured and incarcerated as Larimon was, but the monarchs declared them banished.

The news of Brock's death spread throughout not only the Labyrinth, but the remainder of the Underground as well. Everyone paid tribute to the Goblin City's brave general. For eons to come he would be held in the highest respect, as the only Fae mighty enough to sacrifice his life for the good of the Underground.

Yet every day the kingdom fell a little farther into disrepair. Jareth refused to stir, and Sarah refused to leave his side. Any time now, she told them, he would awaken and the land would have a ruler once again. It was only a matter of hours, surely, before his eyes would open to reveal crystalline mismatched blue.

After a week had passed, Margaret wondered into the darkened Royal Chambers. Delicately she pulled back the curtains, ignoring Sarah's moans as the sunlight broke in strongly. Not waiting for an invitation, she took a seat next to the poor girl, curled insistently around Jareth. "Sarah?"

No answer.

"Sarah, I know that this is difficult for you. It is for all of us. The king, he..." There was no right way to say it. "His flesh is here. But he cannot look after the kingdom. Without a ruler, or even a temporary replacement, the magic is slowly failing." Quietly she rested a hand on her arm. "Lyra told me that he named you queen. Is that true?"

Raising up her head slowly, unwashed hair matted around her face, Sarah croaked, "What does it matter?"

"It matters," Margaret sighed, "because the king had no heir. No wife. He gave you the title of queen, Sarah. You alone can rule."

Eyes wide, open for longer than she had dared the entire week, she muttered, "Rule? Me? You aren't serious."

"Please." The maid was weary herself. "If not for us, for him. It was obvious that he trusted you with his land. And his people."

Sarah felt her chest deflate a bit. Seeing Jareth beside her, unmoved for seven days and positioned exactly as they had laid him down, caused something in her to choke. It was true that he had entrusted his power to her. He hadn't expected to live.

Reluctantly she let Margaret clean and dress her. Sarah couldn't stand to search through the closet herself and see the haunting things the king had made. It was bad enough that the jeweled eyes of the carved owl and raven had blinked at her for a week. Feeling as if she were wasting away, Sarah stepped out into the castle. More than anything it was unbearable to leave Jareth behind, but she managed with the insistence of the maid.

The place was close to shambles. All around her were goblins and other creatures, barely functioning in the disorder. It pained her to think that Jareth would wake and be forced to repair it all, barely recovered from the journey's trials.

Left and right she sent plans into motion. Cleaning, organizing, communicating with other kingdoms, pushing magic into the Labyrinth. The pendant around her neck, which she never removed, helped more than she would ever know. Little by little the kingdom sprang back to life. Although she was not of the royal bloodline, and not Goblin Queen by any legitimate methods, Jareth's word was law. Apparently she had just as much right to enact rules and administer as he had. The creatures obeyed the kind lady without question and watched as time helped the lands to flourish once again.

Night after night Sarah retreated to the Royal Chambers. Night after night she would find his body there, waiting, and her essence would twinge with sorrow. He was vibrant as ever, whole completely, with shimmering skin and beautifully angled features. Often she found herself asleep next to him, words of whispered encouragement floating their way into his ear. Sometimes she even sang sweet songs of a path between the stars. Trying to coax him out of this persistent, endless sleep became her main priority when away from the throne. The staff began to talk openly of the pure morbidity... Their queen was in love with a breathing corpse.

That did not deter the numerous suitors that wondered to her doorstep. After the fifth Sarah became so exasperated that she refused to magic them in. If they wanted to see her, they could run the Labyrinth. No matter how stout of heart, they never reached the Castle Beyond the Goblin City within the thirteen hour time limit. She made sure of that.

It was during a meeting with her staff that the girl snapped. In the throne room she watched, cold and unfeeling from the throne, as advisors argued their opinions.

"Obviously the bloodline no longer applies! The Labyrinth lets her rule in this time of desperation."

"But for a woman to carry the responsibility alone? Preposterous!"

"She should take a king!"

"What good would it do?"

"Form an alliance with another kingdom. Heavens know after the upheaval we could use-"

"Silence!" The gazes of many turned to the standing woman. Her eyes were a raging jade, alive in ways they hadn't been for quite some time. Around her the goblins looked on expectantly. They had grown rather attached to their queen during her short reign. Even if she did not kick them with the joy Jareth had, Sarah could give an applaudable death stare. "There will be no further talk on the matter. This subject is closed for discussion."

"But, your highness-"

"Enough!" Before they could stop her, she had disappeared in a frustrated swirl of glitter, leaving behind a perplexed throne room.

Instantly Sarah reappeared in the Royal Chambers. The place had become a gloomy sanctuary of sorts over the weeks, a shroud of sadness and lost hope. She knew that Jareth could not stay here for long, but her soul was tortured to lay him to rest anywhere. A few had requested a special space to be made, where he could lie undisturbed, unburied. Sarah would not hear of it. He was the only thing that gave her enough strength to push into the next day.

"Goblin King," she said urgently, bunching up her heavy skirts to sit at his side. Addressing him as if to a sleepy child, she mumbled, "You do not know the torment...If only I was in your place, a state of dreams, and you were awake to take care of this bloody kingdom. You would do a much better job of things." Hesitantly she reached out. Always she was scared to find his face cold, helpless to the fact that he had slipped away while she was absent, but he never did. "Do you know that they want me to marry? I know, I know, you won't hear of it," Sarah laughed, imagining his response. Lightly she tugged her dress, a warm blue, into a more comfortable position so that she could rest her head on his chest. The dull beat beneath was steady.

"I'll never be able to love anyone else," she confided. "You've ruined all other men for me." It was meant to be a teasing statement, but there was too much truth behind it. "Who else could drive me insane like you, or melt me with one look? Cause a laugh by simply grinning..." The events of that day were catching up to her. Eyes drifting shut, she continued, "I want to stay with you forever...that's not very long at all. We'll just have to make it last..."

She dreamed that the body beneath her tensed. Maybe he was having a nightmare? Well, if that was the case, Sarah certainly wanted to soothe him. Gently she glided her hand over his chest. In her dream arms settled over her back. The pulse beneath her ear grew and grew until her head was filled with the noise. It was a nice dream. Waking up would be terror.

"Sarah."

Oh, how she had wished and wished to hear that... But wishing out loud was dangerous. She never trusted herself with making selfish requests that could be carried on the air. Deep down it was very comforting for that voice to be mumbling in her ear.

"I love you."

This dream was quite realistic. Were you supposed to be able to feel things in dreams? Isn't that why you always pinched yourself? In all honesty, the fingers that smoothed her spine were preferable.

"Darling," someone was laughing, "wake up. After all this time, I would like to see your face when I properly declare my affection for you."

Sarah could feel herself pulling out of sleep. No, she didn't want to, couldn't bear to face the reality of the kingdom. "I'll wake up and you'll be gone," came a soft sob.

Another laugh. Why was there laughing? Did this dream dare mock her pain? In a moment of pure wretched determination, Sarah swore and jerked her head up.

Jareth looked back at her with an eyebrow quirked. "Sarah," he rumbled, "did you not hear me the first time?" The bewildered girl had started to breathe rather heavily, especially as he sat up and pulled her with him. He took her silence for an answer and lowered his face to her neck. "I love you," he breathed against her collarbone. Up her throat, over her jaw line, Jareth couldn't help but repeat the bewitching phrase. "I love you, Sarah Williams." Hovering over her mouth, so close...

Her listless limbs grabbed him suddenly with a frightened gasp. "Jareth!" The force of the throw was enough to send them back against the pillows. "How?" she screeched. "For weeks and weeks I thought you were...I couldn't..." A moan interrupted the babble before she laughed hysterically and squashed her mouth against his.

The grief, still so thick in the air, was barely letting Sarah's mind fully acknowledge the miracle. "You love me," she gasped between another round of kisses. Jareth did not even have time to answer. "Oh, God, he loves me..." Sitting back suddenly, wrenching herself away from the Goblin King, who had carried on laughing, she yelled, "Why didn't you tell me before, you bastard?"

"There wasn't time. And, had you known, you would never have left."

Enraged, Sarah loomed over him. "What, you mean _not _save the entire Underground from the dark vein? After you had told me I was the only one who could bind it...of course I would have left!" Even as the words fled her mouth she knew them to be a lie. Jareth only grinned smugly and settled his hands on her waist. "Alright," Sarah grumbled, "I would have rather been consumed by boiling lava. But why did it take you so damn long to wake up?"

His hands pulled her down where she could feel his heartbeat again. "Don't you remember the dreams you offered me?" Jareth mumbled against her forehead. Every inch of his skin was aching with relief at her nearness. "You couldn't have missed it. I only wanted to live, if it meant spending eternity with you."

Closing her eyes with a pang, Sarah remembered. Eternity. "I want to stay with you forever..."she repeated. "That's all you ever wanted to hear, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Jareth sighed. "That's all."

"But," the girl worried, "now that I've said it-"

"Love," he laughed. "I told you. _Forever_. Do you honestly think, after this ordeal, that I would magic away just when we can be together?" His arms tightened. "No. I never said I was leaving." Where had she heard that before? With a jerk they were sitting up again. "Wait," the Goblin King frowned. "Weeks? How long have-"

Sarah stopped his lips with a finger. "Too long."

He smiled wickedly at the gesture. A glance down caused his eyes to darken, and he murmured against her hand, "Goblin Queen, I'll have you know that dress is my particular favorite."

"Is it?" she laughed, skimming her hand from his mouth to his neck. With a devilish grin she snapped her fingers and watched as his face turned to one of surprise. Sarah liked the look of unadulterated pleasure he was giving her bare skin. "Too bad."

* * *

They all agreed. It was not healthy for their queen to grieve so heavily, and the undead Goblin King was only worsening matters. Something had to be done about the situation, and fast, before Sarah's mental state crumbled completely. If she was lost to them...the kingdom would be doomed.

"Now," Lyra whispered outside the door to the Royal Chambers, "we have to handle the situation carefully. As soon as you have her attention, Margaret, I'll transport the body to another room." The maid nodded forlornly in response. "I'll erect wards so that she won't be able to enter, at least for a little while. She needs to put it behind her."

"She loves the Goblin King," Margaret sighed. "He'll haunt her, wherever you take him."

Resolutely Lyra frowned. "No time for second guessing the plan. Ready?" With another sigh the second woman nodded. "Alright. In we go."

As softly as they could manage the two pushed open the door. Inside the chambers were dark, the wide windows covered with heavy material to shut out the starshine.

"Sarah?" No answer. Lyra strode to a curtain and yanked it back. "Sarah, listen now-"

Margaret shrieked loud enough to alert the whole castle. "Oh my stars!" she wailed before fleeing the room. Speechless, the healer gaped and tore her eyes away from the bed.

"They're gone..."

* * *

They stayed wrapped around each other long after their racing hearts had slowed to a steady pulse. The dark of the Royal Chambers was beautifully quiet. Although, Sarah thought, someone must have left a window open. There was a cool breeze blowing about them.

Jareth couldn't decide what he liked better...Sarah finally pressed tightly to him, or Sarah wearing nothing but his golden pendant. He settled on a tie. They had found, after the engagement of their mouths, that the pendant acted as a fine prevention to random acts of transportation.

To prove his point, he kissed her swollen lips for the hundredth time.

"I still think," she smiled up at him once he let her breathe, "that this has more to do with _me _giving you part of _my_ power."

"You say you divided it equally between us," Jareth laughed. "We'll see, Sarah, after we discover who possesses more of the magic." Swiftly he rolled so that she was held firmly atop his chest. "Starting with this." He tapped her nose and the pendant disappeared, reforming around his own neck.

"Sneaky cheat!" she growled. Her hands were already roaming his rib cage in revenge.

From the dark overhead soft light filtered down onto them. Sarah turned to see the moon hanging in the sky, several clouds drifting away from its surface. "I didn't know we had a skylight."

The Goblin King frowned before sitting up, pulling her firmly against his side. "We don't."

Confused, Sarah looked around at what the moonlight illuminated, and paled. "Jareth," she hissed, "do you _know where we are_?"

"I believe," he smiled, "that particular obelisk is the one I watched you act out your plays from. I am rather fond of this park-"

"We're Aboveground!"

Laying back onto the soft grass, nearly as nice as his own silken sheets, he said, "It appears that we have far more interesting predicaments to address than kisses, love. Unless you would like to make this a habit-"

"Jareth!"


	14. Epilogue

_Dear readers, reviewers, and friends,_

_This brings another Labyrinth tale to an end. Forgive my absence...life tends to cut in at the most inopportune times. But here we have it, at last. Please enjoy and regard me kindly... I'm just a romantic fool looking to put some spice in the world. Don't worry, you haven't seen the last of me. Oh, no. There are things I have been keeping secret from you, hidden away in the depths of my computer files, just waiting to burst onto the FanFiction scene. Look for me soon with new, wicked tales of our favorite characters._

_And as I've said many times before, your input and motivation are what make the story. Thanks for having my back._

_But in the meantime, soak up this finale. Cheers to the Labyrinth fan!_

_E. Jane_

* * *

Epilogue

Sunlight was not what caused Sarah to wake so disgruntled. No...the drapes around the large bed were pulled tight against the frosty day. Instead, it was an odd combination of the pain in her shoulder and the pain in her stomach.

Drowsily she swatted at the fluff behind her head. "Jareth."

The pain increased slightly as he returned a "mphfm," and buried his face more solidly into her skin.

She made a sound of protest, which only caused the hand at her waist to tighten, and upset her already disagreeable stomach. "I mean it!" Sarah sighed. Damn the Goblin King and his sleeping habits...every morning it was something different. Today he was smooshed into her side, one hand splayed over her middle, the other flung out above his head, and a leg thrown carelessly over her knees. Besides...his chin was digging into her shoulder. Jareth had a very...pointy...chin.

With some difficulty Sarah managed to turn in the circle of his arms. It didn't help that during the process the bed sheets became cocooned around her ankles. And everything smelled of _them_...his sharp spice and her own sweet scent, like lilies in spring water. The aroma had a delicate presence in the room, lacing the air that had been still, desolate, and stagnant during the Goblin King's slumber.

She loved it.

But right now, Sarah really, _really_, needed to get up. With slow, strenuous movements she managed to wriggle downward out of Jareth's arms, disentangle her feet from the sheets, and slide between the heavy curtains. Before she closed them she gave him one last look, and snickered when he moaned and rolled over to find her.

Pain alleviated in her shoulder, but not her stomach, she dashed as quietly as possible to a door that magically sprung into existence at her bidding. Without hesitation she flung it open and streaked past the sunken bath in the middle of the floor, the marble sinks, and gilded mirrors. Another door, smaller, led her directly to the tiny water closet.

It is doubtful that anyone wishes to wake and be overwhelmed with the need to upchuck the previous night's soup. Sarah did just that for a good few minutes before slumping over the toilet bowl and blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "I am going to kill the cook..."

Behind her feet padded silently to the open door and a figure leaned against the frame. After another moment of clutching at her stomach, verifying that all the vital organs were still in place, she felt fingers sweep the hair from her forehead.

"Sick, love?"

'Well, obviously,' she wanted to snort. She didn't have the strength, so Sarah rested back on the welcoming chest behind her.

"I'll send word that you won't be able to come today," Jareth mumbled thoughtfully.

Worry built up again in her stomach, nearly making the sickness return, but she pushed it down and away. "No, I have to go. I'm alright, really." To prove her point she clambered up with the help of the toilet's rim. "They're expecting me."

"Are you sure?" Sarah looked to a worried Goblin King, which was odd enough without the blond hair sticking straight up on one side. "I do not like to entertain the idea of you going into battle alone."

Gracefully she shook her head and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Don't worry. We both know that you couldn't stop me."

Jareth gave her back a wry look as she stepped from the bathroom and then into her closet. "I could try," he grumbled to her bare shoulders. She tossed away the robe and it magically straightened itself out on a hanger.

Sarah detected the stubborn hint in his voice. "If I don't come back in twenty-six hours, send a search party."

Almost immediately she felt the planes of his chest pressed into her spine. "Let's go back to bed," he whispered in her ear. "I can reorder time..."

She almost puddled on the floor when his fingers drew lazy circles over her hips, slowly pulling her toward the door. "You would never let me out again," came the breathy response. There was an appreciative snort before Jareth ghosted his lips down her neck.

"I know."

Sighing, Sarah magicked on a set of durable traveling clothes. As she turned around every muscle tensed with reluctance to leave.

The Goblin King scowled and crossed his arms. "You really are going, then."

It wasn't fair that he could look so damn good in nothing but silk pants. Having to abandon the warm bed, and its other occupant, was a waking nightmare.

"Yes," she returned resolutely. Her heart hiccuped as his face lost the edge and turned soft with concern. Before he could change her mind, Sarah grabbed a heavy fur cloak from a rack and swung it over her shoulders. "And if I don't leave now there will be serious consequences."

He seemed to resign himself to her obstinate decision. "Very well." Pushing her hands away, Jareth busied himself with the tie below her throat. "But if you come back in any condition other than pristine-"

Covering his hands and stilling his mouth with her own, Sarah tried adamantly not to look at the cream dress to her left. Though it haunted her, constantly, she was loathe to move it lest Jareth took offense. "If I need you," she laughed, pulling away, "I'll call." In her peripheral vision the gold stitching that spilled from the throat mocked her. The longer she stood there, the longer it would taunt her with dazzling textures and forgotten promises. She needed to get out, and fast.

Slightly crushed, Jareth nodded and waved a sturdy pair of gloves onto her slender fingers. "I'll wait for you."

"You will do no such thing," Sarah chided automatically. "You have obligations to fulfil, same as me."

Silently he marveled at her queenly nature and felt a pang in his chest. "Only for you, my dear." Despite being outside his own closet, he snapped his fingers and was dressed in full Goblin King regalia. "Without your..._persuasion_...I would undoubtedly neglect the affairs of my kingdom."

Sarah only returned the remark with a coy smile and disappeared between a few folds in the air.

Seconds later Jareth followed suit, reappearing with a frown on his throne. Around him the goblins milled as usual. He studied the new ornamentation strung from the ceiling, draped over the chandelier, and coating the walls. All in all, he admitted to himself, the decorations were an improvement over the usual goblin mess. The greenery even had a delightful scent that covered up some of the more..._questionable_ smells. Pine, Sarah had said.

A flick of his wrist was halted half complete. Mentally Jareth berated himself for wanting to check up on the girl. The urge had grown constantly ever since his awakening, but he tossed the orb into the air where it vanished. There was no need for it, he told himself. She would be fine.

On the far side of the throne room several goblins were inspecting the shiny bobbles adorning the tall green tree. Many argued that they were the king's crystals, but others protested that they were fruit. Jareth watched in silent amusement as one creature bit into an ornament and it shattered in response.

"Poor chaps," he mumbled. Unknowingly a gloved hand delved into a deep pocket within his cloak. The gesture had become a nervous ritual as of late, and Jareth did not realize that he made the movement. "When this strange Aboveground holiday is over they will have nothing to preoccupy themselves with." His hand came free and into the open of its own accord, and for a moment Jareth stared at the little box in confusion.

Another one of the Aboveground's silly rituals. He should have asked Sarah long before now...but the weight of her previous rejection made Jareth reluctant to offer a second time. Carefully he settled the tiny box into its hiding place. It did not matter, really. Tomorrow was the day for gift-giving. Today he would ignore the twisting snake in his stomach and continue to perform as his position demanded.

* * *

Breath coming in tiny white puffs of cold, Sarah crouched fearfully behind the mound of snow. They had found her already...she could hear them advance with each crunchy step. Her weapons were waiting, but would it be enough for these monsters?

"Ahh!"

The battle cry was a series of shrieks followed by dozens of oddly shaped snow balls. Sarah was lucky that she had built her fort so high. Most of them missed, though she got quite a few in her face, and she pelted as many of her own back as she could.

"Take that!" she cried. "And that! Oh, no, you've got me!" Wailing and laughing simultaneously, she let herself be dragged down by several bodies, all bundled against the cold.

"We win!" Mike cried. "That's two battles out of three!"

"Which means we won the snowball war!" Dustin shouted. "Yes!"

"Alright, alright. Hot chocolate it is, then."

They extracted themselves from the snowy hills and valleys it had taken all morning to create. Emily had a tight grip on Sarah's hand, not wanting to fall over with the bulk of her heavy garments. The troop of children were all too happy to race into the warm castle, down the hall, past a servant who muttered about snowy tracks on his floor, and into their special room.

Margaret brought out as many cups of hot chocolate as she could carry. Sarah had known the kids would love an Aboveground treat. "Tell us a story!" Davie pleaded. His glasses were fogging up, so he took them off and rubbed at the lenses clumsily. "Please?"

"Which one do you want to hear?"

"The ice cave!"

"The unicorn!"

"Warrior princess!"

That one, Sarah had to admit, was her favorite. But today...

"How about a new story?" There was a loud swell of surprise. "Calm down, and I'll tell you," she laughed. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl whose stepmother always made her stay home with the baby..."

* * *

All of the story had been told, the hot chocolate drunk, and the children sent back home with their parents. For a while Sarah wondered the corridors of the Labyrinth alone, taking in the frosted coils and twists. New snow had started to fall while she was indoors entertaining the wished-aways.

Her feet led her to a wrought iron gate. Peeking through the bars, Sarah could see Lyra waving her hands about the herb garden within and dispelling the cold. Tentatively she knocked until the healer looked up. "Hello, Lyra. May I come in?"

"Of course, your majesty," she snorted. Inwardly Sarah sighed. No matter what she said, the staff continued to address her with a title she did not deserve. And Lyra, stubborn thing, was obviously thinking that she had the power to come in without the invitation.

"Thanks," Sarah hurried, closing the gate behind her. Inside the herb garden it was much warmer, a sprinkling of magic keeping the plants alive during the winter months, but she still clutched the fur coat tightly around her throat. "Are you having a good holiday?"

"Strange celebration, this...Christmas," the healer admitted. A few spiky plants became a lighter hue with a wiggle of her fingers. "When is it, tomorrow?"

She nodded and looked around, taking a seat on a small stone bench. Somehow the new flurries refused to fall in this part of the Labyrinth. "Tonight's Christmas Eve."

"Well, at least I'll have the day off." The scarf wrapped around Lyra's head was a bright red, contrasting against her silvery hair. Without it she could have camouflaged herself in the snow. "But the gift giving bit, I'm not so sure about-"

Sarah blinked as the healer stopped mid sentence and seemed to stare right through her. "Lyra?" she asked worriedly, standing up, "Are you alright?"

"Sit down!" she barked, and Sarah plopped onto the stone bench with an 'eep.' Quizzically she studied the brunette girl, her rosy cheeks, and furry cloak. "Are you feeling well?"

Shocked, Sarah blinked and mumbled, "Yes, fine. Earlier I was reacquainted with yesterday's soup, but other than that-"

"Come here."

Yelping, she let Lyra drag her up by the arm and propel her into the small home. She landed unceremoniously in a wooden chair by the fireplace and looked up into the other Fae's ageless face. "What's going on?"

"Don't talk." After a few moments of circling the girl, Lyra returned to the front and assessed her from top to bottom. Her bright eyes widened.

"Oh my."

* * *

"Left...yes, good...stop! Right there," Jareth commanded. "Perfect. You are all dismissed."

Goblins scuttled to and fro, retreating over the border of the hedge maze after a long morning of labor. Jareth was pleasantly surprised that they had actually completed the tasks without breaking anything of value.

Quietly he regarded the new statue of the tall figure they had erected. Snow had already piled atop the marble crown that represented fiery red hair. His large shield, studded with bronze, was held in a commanding salute. Even the proud stallion was beneath him, ready to launch his general into battle.

The _tap tap _of feet behind him was unmistakable. Jareth would know the sound of those feet any time, any place, covered or bare. When she wrapped an arm about his waist he enfolded her in the heavy, dark cloak he wore. "Brock wouldn't want you to mourn," Sarah whispered.

Jareth sighed a quiet, "I know," into her hair. Pulling himself together, he laughed, "You seem to be feeling much better, if that war with the rascals is anything to go by."

Her heart spluttered somewhere in her head. "About that..."

"You know," the Goblin King smiled, "I still do not have a fresh bouquet for my table, and it is almost dinner time."

Pursing her lips, Sarah let the transportation spell wash over her. Obviously now was not the right time... Should she wait until another day? Lyra's diagnosis for her troubled digestive system had both shocked and elated her, and she was eager to share her news with Jareth...

Until she remembered her position within the kingdom. Foolishly, she had thought that maybe, after all they had been through, Jareth would think to make their relationship a little more...official. But he never hinted at any inkling to the idea, so Sarah found herself in a more than awkward situation.

'What am I to you?' she thought with a sigh, stealing a glance into his face as they reappeared. 'The Goblin King's Champion, companion, confidante, lover...' That was about the extent of things. He had told Sarah that he loved her, and she knew without a doubt that his words were true. It was just...his lack of finality in the matter, so important before now, troubled her. 'Stupid, stupid girl,' she grumbled to in her head. 'You've ruined everything for yourself...' Nothing would ever convince Sarah to propose such a binding act. Especially not now. It would be like...

An excuse.

Inwardly she cringed as they finally made it to the large glass doors of the greenhouse. 'Later,' Sarah waved off her thoughts, and pushed her way inside. Welcoming the rush of warm air, she hastily stripped off the heavy furs and hung them by the door. "What will you pick today?" she wondered aloud, dragging Jareth through the rows of flowers. He didn't have to know her secret, not yet. She could paste on a happy face for the holidays.

"Something festive," he decided. There was...a slight difference about Sarah. Maybe it was the way she held herself that seemed, for lack of a better word, off. "I know this Aboveground holiday is quite important to you."

"How about..." Mumbling, not sure exactly where she had put them in this enormous place, Sarah pushed through a bit of greenery before stopping. "Here. Poinsettias."

He inspected the vibrant red starbursts she presented him with. Between two gloved fingers he snapped a stem, then brought up the flower and tucked it into her hair. "They're beautiful." Jareth loved the way the red matched her windblown cheeks. "But not as beautiful as you."

Oh, she couldn't do this to him. Wouldn't it disgrace the throne? The kingdom? Sadly Sarah smiled and turned to kiss the gloved palm holding her face. She loved him too much to hurt him that way... "Let's go to dinner."

* * *

Trying to sleep was a feverish affair for two inhabitants of the castle that night. Jareth awoke from fleeting dreams and hours of insomnia, each taking their tortuous turns. Impatiently he conjured a crystal in the dark. He did not need light to see what lay in his palm seconds later, the object he had secreted for too long. With a snap of his fingers it was put in its proper place, exactly where it should have been all this time, and finally he allowed sleep to claim him.

Sarah was not so lucky. Vaguely she felt movement on the other side of the bed during the night, but was too wrapped up in her own haunted dreams. Visions of white gowns and child-like laughter plagued her subconscious. Restlessly she magicked herself out of bed without bothering to check the figure beside her.

Instantly she felt familiar floor beneath her toes. A wave of her hand lighted numerous candles, placed at odd angles around the humble cottage. It was chilly here, so she used magic to summon a fire in the hearth and warmer clothes. Soft leather slippers encased her toes and gloves slid easily onto her hands. Robes and shawls draped luxuriously about her shoulders before Sarah allowed herself to slump over the large, dark desk pushed up against one wall.

The soft candlelight illuminated the dozens of drawings pinned to the walls. Most of them had been done by her children during school hours. One, her personal favorite, hung just over her head above the desk. It was a sketch of a lazy dragon, tilting its snout up to drink in the sunlight. She mused quietly to herself, head on her arms, that its mate was of a slumbering girl with tangled tresses.

"Its mate..." Sarah yawned dejectedly. What a word to use at a time like this. "Oh, what do I do now..."

She couldn't hide it forever. Time would reveal her secret whether or not she was willing. Sarah could not help but to imagine less than favorable responses from the Goblin King.

"What will he do with a bastard child?" came a sigh to the desk. Hot tears slipped down her nose and pooled on the polished wood. She had often come to her cottage for refuge, either from the goblins or for a private getaway. A secret-clubhouse of indulgence, more or less. Never had Sarah predicted to be crying her eyes out over such a heavy matter here. "No wife, no heir. Just...regret..." Mournfully she toyed with the thought of withdrawing to another kingdom. Perhaps running away into the city itself. Fearfully she placed a hand over her stomach and raised her head slightly. How could she ever support two of them alone? A beggar Champion and the Goblin King's illegitimate infant...

Exhausted by her thoughts and emotions and tears, Sarah replaced her head on her arms and sunk into a fitful, troubled sleep.

A heavy weight settled over her shoulders. Around her was only dark...the minute fire must have burned itself out, and the candles had been stubs to begin with.

Vertigo enveloped her as Sarah felt the world tilt at a ninety degree angle. Blearily she opened her eyes to wan moonlight and found nothing but a sculpted collarbone.

"What's got you up at all hours of the night, precious?"

Gingerly Jareth sat on one of the lavish couches he had insisted be placed in the cottage. If Sarah wanted an office away from the mud-slinging goblins, it was fine with him, but she would work as comfortably as possible. After a moment of rearranging them both, he settled on stretching out the full length of the couch and cradling the girl atop him. She seemed to be deep in sleep still, and instinctively she tucked her head under his chin and sprawled comfortably over his chest. Carefully he tugged the blanket he had brought more snugly around them.

"Don't be angry..." she mumbled.

"Angry?" he frowned to the dark, but she did not respond. Chalking it up to a dream, he contented himself with drinking in the feel of her. His fingers explored the heap of garments Sarah had thrown on to fight the cold. The leather gloves planted on his chest were especially unusual, and he pulled them off lightly before studying one of her hands. "Oh, precious thing," Jareth sighed to her sleeping form, splaying the fingers over his chest, "don't break my heart a second time."

Rise and fall. Up and down. She did not have to open her eyes to know where she was. Jareth always found her the seldom times she went missing.

He hated an empty bed as much as she did.

"Merry Christmas."

The breath that wavered across her forehead sent Sarah's mind reeling back into yesterday's reality. Every concentrated inhalation and exhalation of Jareth's chest was like riding waves at sea. Huffing slightly into his bare chest, the girl realized that worrying over the matter would only frazzle her nerves. Stress might even harm the child...

"Emfregknut."

Jareth blinked sleepily at her slurred declaration. "Come again?" Startled, he noticed that his bare chest was becoming oddly wet. Sarah lifted her tear stained face to look into his and bit her lip.

"I'm." Oh, God. How did you say something like this? "I'm," she tried again before scrunching her eyes closed and retreating her face into the crook of his arm. "Pregnant."

Moments of silence passed. She couldn't bear to look at him, not yet. When he refused to speak she chanced a glance out of the corner of one eye.

His gaze had turned glassy, lips slightly parted. The Goblin King looked as if the sky itself had opened up to rain stars. "Sarah..."

"I'm sorry!" she wailed automatically. The pang in her chest deepened as Jareth sat up and his face contorted from wonder to horror.

"Sorry!" he blinked incredulously. _"Sorry_?" Sarah recoiled at the almost-bellows. Too fast for her to see, he twisted them to look down into her face. Towering above her in terrifying beauty, the picture of brute strength and sparking eyes, Jareth groaned, "Don't you dare," before kissing all the breath from her lungs.

Gasping from the bruising kiss, Sarah managed a "What?"

"Don't you dare," Jareth repeated louder, "ever apologize to me..." He clutched her freezing body to his own. "Ridiculous woman, what in the Underground are you sorry for?"

Perfectly bewildered, Sarah rested her cheek on his shoulder. "Well, won't it...I mean, this can't be good. Having a child out of wedlock."

Shaking his head, he smiled and moved back to see her. The grin all but consumed his glowing face. "That's why I'm going to marry you, confounding minx!" His laugh was going to bring the walls down. "How could you ever think for a second that I wouldn't-"

"But that's just it," she interrupted him. "You're going to do the...honorable thing, aren't you?"

Dazed, shredded inside-out, his arms fell limp around her. "You don't want to marry me." It wasn't a question. Slowly he began to rise, his eyes deathly still and haunted, but with a strangled cry Sarah tugged him back onto the couch by his waistband.

"Of course I do, idiot! But not like this!" Why was everything between them so difficult? "Jareth," she tried to explain, "I don't want you to marry me out of obligation. I want you to marry me because..."

Understanding flooded his features. Silently he reached for her hands and cradled them in his own. "Darling, I suggest you take a look at this." He turned over her gloveless fingers with particular care.

Sarah shook her hands free from his and brought the left to her face. On her fourth finger glittered a ring of some clear substance, cut like a diamond on the inside, but formed a smooth, solid band around her entire finger. It looked suspiciously like...crystal. For a moment she sputtered, watching the morning light glint off of it and send tiny rainbows around the cottage.

"That has been burning a hole in my pocket for some time," the Goblin King admitted to the stunned woman opposite him. "And when I finally gather the nerve to slip it on your finger, you're asleep."

Her euphoric expression dissipated into a stormy scowl. Eyes wide, Jareth winced at the pound his shoulder received. "You didn't even ask me!" Suddenly appalled by her actions, Sarah gently soothed the spot with her fingers. "Sorry," she mumbled sheepishly, "but why?"

"I didn't have to," he returned softly. At her growing comprehension he was quick to add, "It's simply the way of the Underground, Sarah. I am a king, and if I proclaim us married, then we are." Stilling her ministrations, he pulled the perplexed girl onto his lap.

"We could have been married ages, and I never would have known..." Trailing off, Sarah wriggled to see his face better. "Then why the ring, and the dress, and-"

"Because," Jareth sighed, stopping her lips with a finger, "it should not be the choice of one party alone. Do you like it?" he smirked, watching her twirl the ring absentmindedly around her finger. For a moment he took pleasure in her distraction and traced the outline of her mouth.

"It feels like a part of my hand." Indeed, it was perfect. Was it magically fitted to her size, like all the clothes in her closet? Closet...

A muffled wail escaped her lips. Confused, Jareth felt her sag against him. "What is it?"

"I'll never fit!"

'Fit...' he mouthed to himself. "Fit where?"

Snapping her fingers, Sarah felt the heaps and heaps of mismatched garments and blankets melt into the cream dress with gold stitching. Pulling back and placing a hand over her stomach, then taking one of Jareth's and repeating the action, she sniffled, "In this."

He laughed. For Sarah, himself, their child, and the antics of all women in general. "Did you honestly believe that I could wait thirteen months to marry you? I was thinking more along the lines of..." Seriously he tapped his chin. "Isn't the Aboveground name for the day New Year's?"

"Thirteen!" she gasped, the rest of the sentence completely lost on her. So engulfed was she in repeating the mantra of 'thirteen months' that Sarah paid no attention to Jareth chuckling and swooping her up. Finally the dizzy transportation alerted her possessed stomach to movement. "Hey, where are you taking me?"

"In your condition? To bed, Goblin Queen." He liked the way the title rang, the way it tasted on his tongue, the way she looked laying back in his bed. _Their_ bed. Delicately he laid beside her and traced a few golden swirls over her stomach.

Sarah watched the pleasure unfurl in his eyes. All of a sudden she felt the insatiable craving for twenty or so jars filled with pickles. Trying not to laugh, she let Jareth kiss the silken folds of her dress and threaded a hand through his hair. "You're going to love me forever, aren't you?" Sarah teased.

Looking up and finding her eyes twinkling with mischief, Jareth allowed a smirk to widen over his lips. "Oh, no. Much, much longer."


End file.
